^ 



. 




Class 



/— 



Book- 



ILLUSTRATED 



HISTORICAL SKETCHES 

OF 

THE INDIANS. 




THE 



INDIAN: 



ON THE 



B A T T L E-F IELD 



AND IN THE 



WIGWAM. 

BY 

JOHN FROST, LL.D. 



BOSTON: 
WENTWORTH, HEWES & CO. 
86 "Washington Street. 

1858. 



git 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1857, by 

WENTWORTH & COMPANY, 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the District of Massachusetts. 



/ 



If 






TO THE UEADEU. 

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PREFACE. 



These sketches are drawn from a great variety 
of sources, and are intended, not only to exhibit 
the Indian character in all its phases, but to com- 
prise in a small compass a valuable collection of 
narratives of Indian warfare, embracing views of 

their peculiar methods of strategy, ambuscades, and 

(v) 



Ti PREFACE. 

surprises — their treatment of prisoners, and their 
other characteristic manners and customs. 

By the aid of Mr. Croome, and other eminent 
artists, I have been able to illustrate the volume 
quite profusely with engravings. I trust that the 
work will be found a useful as well as interesting 
contribution to historical literature. 





CONTENTS. 



Indian Character, 

Indian Friendship, 

The Captive Sister, 

Parental Affection, - 

The Friendly Manoeuvre, - 

Grand Sun, 

Tecumseh and the Prophet, 

The Destruction of Montreal, 

A Buffalo Hunt, 

Indian Papooses, 

Mrs. Hanson and her Children, 

The Story of Shonka, 



9 
17 

24 
32 
41 
46 

57 
69 
77 
82 
86 
99 



(Til) 



viii CONTENTS. 

The Death of Canonchet, - - -116 

Church and the Narragansett, - - 127 

The Death of King Philip, - . - 135 

The Rain Makers, - - - _ 145 

The Bride's Rescue, - - - . 153 

Yondeega's Gratitude, - - . jgl 

The Burning of Deerfield, - - - 205 

The Fire Water, - - _ _ 213 

Farmer's Brother, - 222 

The Prophet of the Allegany, - - 228 

Peter OTSAQUETrE, - - . . 241 

Perfidy Punished, - - . _ 248 

Adventures of Daniel Boone, - - - 255 

Adventure of General Putnam, - - 287 

The Indians of St. Mary's, - * 305 

Red Jacket, - 332 

Weatherford, - 345 

The Battle of Saco Pond, - 357 

Wingina, - . . . -365 

Harold Dean, or the Indian's Revenge, - 370 
Bienville's Expedition against the Chicasaws. - 387 





STOEIES OF THE INDIANS.. 



INDIAN GEATITUDE. 

OT long after Connecti- 
cut began to be set- 
tled by the English, a 
stranger 'Indian came 
one day to a ta,vern in 
one of its towns in the 
dusk of the evening, 
and requested the hos- 
tess to supply him with something to eat and 

(9) 




10 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

drink; at the same time he honestly told her 
that he could not pay for either, as he had 
had no success in hunting for several days ; 
but that he would return payment as soon as 
he should meet with better fortune. 

The hostess, who was a very ill-tempered 
woman, not only flatly refused to relieve 
him, but added abuse to her unkindness, 
calling him a lazy, drunken fellow, and told 
him that she did not work so hard herself, to 
throw away her earnings upon such vaga- 
bonds as he was. 

There was a man sitting in the same room 
of the tavern, who, on hearing the conversa- 
tion, looked up, and observing the Indian's 
countenance, which plainly showed that he 
was suffering severely from want and fatigue, 
and being of a humane disposition, he told 
the woman to give the poor wanderer some 
supper, and he would pay for it. 

She did so: and when the Indian had 
finished his meal, he turned towards his be- 
nefactor, thanked him, and told him that he 
should not forget his kindness. " As for the 



INDIAN GRATITUDE. 11 

woman/' he added, "all I can give her is a 
story — if she likes to hear it." The woman, 
being now in a rather better temper, and 
having some curiosity to hear what he had 
to tell, readily consented, and the Indian ad- 
dressed her as follows : 

"I suppose you read the Bible ?" The 
woman assented. "Well," continued the 
Indian, "the Bible say, God made the world, 
and then he took him, and looked on him, 
and say, ' It's all very good.' Then he made 
light, and took him, and looked on him, and 
say, ' It's all very good.' Then he made dry 
land, and water, and sun, and moon, and 
grass, and trees, and took him, and say, ' It's 
all very good.' Then he made beasts, and 
bird, and fishes, and took him, and looked on 
him, and say, 'It's all very good." Then he 
made man, and took him, and looked on him, 
and say, ' It's all very good.' And last of all 
he made tvoman, and took him, and looked on 
him, and he no dare say one such word" The 
Indian, having told his story, departed. 

Some years after, the man who had be- 



12 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

friended the Indian had occasion to go some 
distance into the wilderness between Litch- 
field and Albany, which is now a populous 
city, but then contained only a few houses. 
Here he was taken prisoner by an Indian 
scout, and carried off into Canada. When he 
arrived at the principal settlement of their 
tribe, which was on the banks of the great 
river St. Lawrence, some of the Indians pro- 
posed that he should be put to death, in re- 
venge for the wrongs that they had suffered 
from the white men ; and this probably would 
have been his fate, had not an old Indian 
woman, or squaw, as they are called, de- 
manded that he should be given up to her, 
that she might adopt him in place of her son, 
whom she had lately lost in war. He was 
accordingly given to her, and, as it is custo- 
mary under such circumstances, was thence- 
forth treated in the same manner as her own 
son. 

In the following summer, as he was one day 
at work in the forest by himself, felling trees, 
an Indian, who was unknown to him, came 



INDIAN GRATITUDE. 13 

up and asked him to meet him the following 
day at a certain spot which he described. 
The white man agreed to do so, but not with- 
out some apprehension that mischief was in- 
tended. During the night these fears in- 
creased to so great a degree, as effectually to 
prevent his keeping his appointment. 

However, a few days after, the same In- 
dian, finding him at work, mildly reproved him 
for not keeping his promise. The man made 
the best excuse he could, but the Indian was 
not satisfied until he had again promised to 
meet him the next morning at the place 
already agreed on. 

Accordingly, when he arrived at the spot, 
he found the Indian already there, provided 
with two muskets and powder, and two knap- 
sacks. The Indian ordered him to take one 
of each, and to follow him. The direction of 
their march was southward. The man fol- 
lowed without the least knowledge of what 
he was to do, or whither he w T as going, but 
he concluded that if the Indian intended to 
do him harm, he would have despatched him 

2 



14 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

at the first meeting, and certainly would not 
have provided him with a musket and powder 
for defence. His fears, therefore, gradually 
subsided, although the Indian maintained an 
obstinate silence when he questioned him 
concerning the object of their expedition. 

In the day time they shot and cooked as 
much game as they required, and at night 
they kindled a fire by which they slept. After 
a fatiguing journey through the forest for 
many days, they came one morning to the 
top of a hill from which there was the pros- 
pect of a cultivated country, interspersed 
with several snug farm-houses. 

" Now," said the Indian to his joyful com- 
panion, "do you know where you are?" 
"Yes," replied he, "we are not ten miles 
from my own village." "And do you not 
know a poor Indian at the tavern ? — you feed 
him — you speak kind to him — I am that poor 
Indian ; — now go home." Having said this, 
he bade him farewell, and the man joyfully 
returned to his own home. 




SILOUEE. 




INDIAN FRIENDSHIP. 



OME of the earlier set- 
tlers of Yirginia acted 
in the most barbarous 
manner towards their 
Indian neighbors, and 
it is, therefore, not won- 
derful that they some- 
times received a ter- 
rible punishment. But though revenge was 
usually uppermost in the breasts of the injured 
ones, instances occurred in which the sacred 

2* (17) 




18 STORIES OP THE INDIANS. 

feeling of friendship triumphed over that pas- 
sion and the prejudice of the race. 

On one occasion, Colonel Bird was employed 
by the English government to transact some 
business with the tribe of Cherokees. It un- 
fortunately happened that a short time before 
he went among them, some white people had 
seized two Indians, who had given them some 
trifling offence, and had put them to death ; 
and the Indians, indignant at the outrage, 
determined to take revenge whenever the op- 
portunity offered. The appearance of Colonel 
Bird presented the wished-for opportunity, 
and consultations were held as to the most 
effectual means of getting him into their 
power, and of making him the sacrifice. 

Colonel Bird perceived their intentions, and 
felt that he had just cause for alarm, as he 
was in their country, without the means of 
escape. Among the neighboring Cherokees, 
was one named Silouee, celebrated as a chief 
and jpow-woiu, or medicine man. He had 
known Colonel Bird for some time, had eaten 
with him, and felt a deep friendship for him. 



INDIAN FRIENDSHIP. 19 

Silouee told Colonel Bird not to be alarmed, 
and even assured him that the Indians should 
not injure him. At length, in a general 
council of the chiefs and old men of the tribe, 
it was determined in spite of Silouee' s earnest 
remonstrances, that Colonel Bird should be 
put to death in revenge for the loss of their 
countrymen. 

Two warriors were despatched to Colonel 
Bird's tent, to execute the cruel sentence. 
Silouee insisted on accompanying them. On 
reaching the tent, Silouee rushed in before 
them, threw himself on the bosom of his friend, 
and as the warriors approached, he exclaimed, 
"This man is my friend; before you take 
him, you must kill me." 

Awed by Silouee's determined magnanimity, 
the warriors returned to the council, and re- 
lated what had occurred. Indians generally 
respect a faithful friend as much as they 
esteem one who is implacable in his revenge. 
The consultation was reversed. Silouee's 
noble conduct altered their purpose. They 
therefore released Colonel Bird, and bade him 



20 STORIES OP THE INDIANS. 

go to his home in peace. Silouee acted as his 
guide and protector until Colonel Bird came 
in sight of his tent. As they parted, the In- 
dian's last words to his friend were, " When 
you see poor Indian in fear of death from 
cruel white men, remember Silouee." 

Some years after Colonel Bird's life had 
been saved by Silouee, he became a Virginia 
planter, and took up his residence near the 
James river. Silouee retained his friendship 
for him, becoming his near neighbor. Like 
many of his nation, he had, by intercourse 
with the whites, acquired a great taste for 
" strong waters," or ardent spirits, and the 
dignity of the chief was frequently lowered 
by drunkenness. On one occasion, Colonel 
Bird had gone to another part of the country, 
on business, and had left the care of his plan- 
tation to his overseer. The tobacco had ob- 
tained some size, and a long drought coming 
on, there was a prospect that the crop would 
be much injured. We have stated that Si- 
louee was a pow-wow, or Indian medicine- 
man and conjurer. One day when he came 



INDIAN GRATITUDE. 21 

to the plantation, the overseer expressed his 
opinion that the tobacco crop would be en- 
tirely lost, if rain did not soon fall. 

"Well," said the Indian, " what will you 
give me if I bring rain ?" 

" You bring rain," said the overseer, 
laughing. 

'"Me can," said the Indian. "Give me 
two bottles of rum— only two, and me bring 
rain enough." 

The overseer cast his eye towards the hea- 
vens, but could discern no appearance that 
foretold rain. To gratify the Indian, he pro- 
mised to give him the two bottles of rum 
when Colonel Bird arrived, in case the rain 
should come speedily and save the crop of 
tobacco. 

Silouee now fell to pow-wowing with all his 
might, making grimaces, contorting his body, 
and uttering strange, unintelligible ejacula- 
tions. 

It was a hot, close day, and it so happened 
that towards evening, the sky, which had 
been clear for some weeks, clouded over, and 



22 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

the appearance of the heavens was strongly 
in favor of rain. Before midnight thunder 
was heard, and heavy showers of rain watered 
the colonel's plantation thoroughly ; while it 
was remarked that the showers were so par- 
tial that the neighboring plantations were 
left almost as dry as they were before. The 
Indian waited quietly till the rain was over, 
and then walked away. A few days after, 
the colonel returned to the plantation, and, 
when Silouee heard of his arrival, he went 
immediately to visit him. 

" Master Bird," said he, " me come for my 
two bottles of rum." 

" Tour two bottles of rum," exclaimed the 
colonel, pretending not to know any thing of 
the matter ; " pray do I owe you two bottles 
of rum?" 

" Tou do," replied the Indian. 

"How so?" inquired the colonel. 

" Me bring you rain — me save your crop," 
said the Indian. 

"Tou bring rain," said the colonel; "no 
such thing." 



INDIAN GRATITUDE. 



23 



"Me did," persisted the Indian; "me 
loved you ; me tell overseer to give me two 
bottles of rum, and then me bring rain. Over- 
seer say he would ; me bring cloud, then rain ; 
now me want rum." 

"You saw the cloud," said Colonel Bird; 
"you are a sad cheat." 

"Me no cheat," said the Indian; "me saw 
no cloud; me bring cloud," 

"Well, well," said the colonel, you are an 
old friend, and you shall have the rum, since 
you beg so hard for it. But mind you, it is 
not for the rain. The Great Spirit sent the 
rain, not you." 

"Well," said the Indian, "your tobacco 
had rain upon it — why others have none? 
Answer that, colonel, if you can." 





ners 



THE CAPTIVE SISTER. 

NSTANCES are recorded 
in which white children 
have been captured and 
brought up by the In- 
dians, and have so far 
forgotten early associa- 
tions as to become iden- 
tified in habits and man- 
with their red captors. In most of these 





TEE CAPTIYE S1STKB. 



THE CAPTIVE SISTER. 27 

cases, the adopted Indian could not be in- 
duced to return to the haunts of civilization 
and the friends of his or her race ; which fact 
would seem to prove that, either the life of the 
Indian is happier than that of the civilized 
white man, or, the qualities of our nature 
may be altered by the power of habit. 

In 1778, the family of Mr. Jonathan Slocum, 
near Wilkesbarre, (Campbell's Wyoming,) 
Pennsylvania, was attacked by Indians. 
"Within the house were two girls, aged nine 
and five years, a son of thirteen, a little boy 
of two and a half, and their mother. The 
men were working in the field, and two youths 
were in the porch grinding a knife. One of 
the latter was shot and scalped with his own 
knife. The eldest sister seized the little boy 
and ran with him towards the fort. The In- 
dians took the boy who had been turning the 
grindstone, young Slocum, and his sister 
Frances, and prepared to depart. Little Slo- 
cum being lame, they set him down, and pro- 
ceeded on their way. One of the Indians 
threw the little girl over his shoulder, and 



28 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

her weeping face was the last object of the 
mother's gaze. 

About a month afterwards, the savages re- 
turned, murdered the aged grandfather, shot 
a ball into the leg of the lame boy, and then 
plunging into the woods were heard of no 
more. Tears passed away ; the mother died 
of grief for her lost child. The two remaining 
brothers, grown to manhood, resolved to as- 
certain the fate of their sister. They made 
every inquiry, travelled through the west and 
into the Canadas, but all in vain ; and for 
fifty-eight years, the captive's fate was un- 
known. 

At length, in 1836, accident discovered what 
inquiry could not. The Hon. G. W. Ewing, 
United States agent to Indian Territory, while 
travelling on the banks of the Mississiniwa, 
lost his way and was benighted, and compelled 
to take shelter in an Indian wigwam. Thb 
agent was kindly received, and after supper, 
entered into conversation with the hostess. 
He was soon surprised by observing that her 
hair was fine and flaxen-colored, and that, 



THE CAPTIVE SISTER. 29 

under her dress, her skin appeared to be 
white. Upon inquiry, she informed him 
that she was the daughter of white parents, 
that her name was Slocum, that when five 
years old she had been carried captive, by In- 
dians, from a house on the Susquehanna. All 
else was forgotten. 

On reaching home, Ewing wrote an account 
of the affair, and sent it to Lancaster for pub- 
lication. Through neglect, however, it was 
not published for two years afterwards ; but 
it was then seen by Mr. Slocum, of Wflkes- 
barre, the little boy who had been saved by 
the girl, sixty years before. He immediately 
started for Indiana, accompanied by the sister 
who had saved him, at the same time writing 
to his brother to meet him at the wigwam. 
The incidents connected with this visit have 
been preserved, and are interesting. 

On entering the cabin, they beheld an In- 
dian woman, apparently seventy-five years 
old, painted and jewelled. Tet her hair was 
as the agent had described it, and her skin 
beneath her dress appeared white. They ob- 

3* 



30 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

tained an interpreter and began to converse. 
We may imagine the feelings of the little 
party, while they listened to the Indian wo- 
man's tale. The incidents of the assault and 
capture — too well known already — were dis- 
closed with a faithfulness which left no room 
for doubt. " How came your nail gone ?" in- 
quired the sister. "My elder brother pounded 
it off when I was a little child in the shop." 
"What was your name then ?" She did not 
remember. " Was it Frances ?" She smiled 
on hearing the long-forgotten sound, and 
promptly answered, "Yes." All were now 
satisfied that they were of one family, and 
yet there was little joy in that meeting. 
There was a. sadness, not merely through re- 
membrance of the past, but of a kind present, 
deep, painful ; for though the brothers were 
walking the cabin unable to speak, and the 
sister was sobbing, yet there sat the poor In- 
dian sister, no throb of emotion disturbing 
her equanimity. 

Her previous history may soon be told. It 
was the Delaware tribe who had taken her 



THE CAPTIVE SISTER. 31 

captive, and when she grew up among them, 
she married one of their chiefs. He died or 
deserted her, and she then married a Miami. 
She had two daughters, who both grew up and 
married Indians. The) 7 all lived in one cabin. 
The brothers and sisters tried to persuade 
their sister to return with them, and, if she 
desired it, to bring her children. She answered 
that she had always lived with the Indians ; 
that they had always been kind to her ; that 
she had promised her late husband, on his 
death-bed, never to leave them, and that pro- 
mise she was resolved to keep. The three 
generous relatives then retraced their steps, 
sorrowing that they were compelled to leave 
their sister in the wilderness. 

The Indian sister died in 1847. Her man- 
ners and customs were those of the Indians 
until her death, yet she was admired alike 
by the red and white men. Her grave is on a 
beautiful knoll, near the confluence of the Mis- 
sissiniwa and the Wabash, a spot which had 
been her residence for nearly thirty years. 




PAKENTAL AFFECTION. 

^^jj||jfejjj^J[JRING the frequent wars 

between the Indians 
and the early settlers 
of New England, the 
former defeated a 
party of English sol- 
diers. Their retreat 
was without order; 
and a young English officer, in attempting to 
(32) 





THE ENGLISH OFFICER. 



PAKENTAL AFFECTION. 35 

escape, was pursued by two savages. Find- 
ing escape impracticable, and determined to 
sell his life as dearly as possible, he turned 
round to face his foes. A violent struggle 
commenced, and he must have fallen, if an 
old chief had not thrown himself between the 
combatants. The red men instantly retired 
with respect. The old man took the young 
officer by the hand, dispelled his fears, and 
led him through the forest to his wigwam, 
where he treated him with the greatest kind- 
ness. He seemed to take pleasure in the 
youth's company ; he was his constant com- 
panion ; he taught him his language, customs, 
and arts. Thoughts of home would sometimes 
haunt the young Englishman. At these 
times, "Wanou would survey his young friend 
attentively, and the tears would fill his 
eyes. 

When the spring returned, the war was 
renewed, and Wanou, whose strength was 
still sufficient to bear the toils of war, set out 
with the rest of the braves, and his white 
prisoner. 



36 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

When the Indians arrived in sight of the 
English camp, Wanou showed the young 
officer his countrymen, observing his counte- 
nance the while. " There are thy brethren," 
said he, "waiting to fight us. Listen to me. 
I have saved thy life. I have taught thee to 
make a canoe, and bow and arrows ; to hunt 
the bear and the buffalo ; to bring down the 
deer at full speed, and to outwit even the 
cunning fox. What wast thou when I first 
led thee to my wigwam ? Thy hands were 
like those of a child ; they served neither to 
support nor to defend thee ; thou wert igno- 
rant, but from me thou hast learned every 
thing. Wilt thou be ungrateful, and raise up 
thy arm against the red man?" 

The young man declared with warmth that 
he would rather lose his own life than shed 
the blood of his Indian friends. The old war- 
rior covered his face with his hands, bowed 
his head and remained in that posture for 
some time, as if overcome by some painful 
recollection. Then with a strong effort, he 
said to the young man, " Hast thou a father ?" 



PAKENTAL AFFECTION. 37 

"He was living," said the young man, 
u when I left my native country." 

" Oh ! how fortunate he is still to have a 
son!" cried the Indian; and then, after a 
moment's silence, he added, "Knowest thou 
that I have been a father ; but I am no longer 
so ! I saw my son fall in battle ; he fought 
bravely by my side ; my son fell covered with 
wounds, and he died like a man ! but I re- 
venged his death; yes, I revenged his death 1" 
Wanou pronounced these words with a ter- 
rible vehemence ; but at length he became 
calm, and turning towards the east, where 
the sun had just risen, he said, " Young man, 
thou seest that glorious light — does it afford 
thee any pleasure to behold it ?" 

"Yes," replied the officer, "I never look 
upon the rising sun without pleasure, or with- 
out feeling thankful to our great father who 
created it." 

"I am glad thou art happy, but there is 
no more pleasure for me," said Wanou. A 
moment after, he showed the young man a 

4 



38 



STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 



shrub in full bloom, and said, "Hast thou 
any pleasure in beholding this plant ?" 

"Yes, great pleasure," replied the young 
man. 

" To me, it can no longer give pleasure,'' 
said the old man ; and then embracing the 
young Englishman, he concluded with these 
words, "Begone! hasten to thy country, that 
thy father may still have pleasure in behold- 
ing the rising sun, and the flowers of spring." 
Poor chief; the death of his beloved son had 
broken his heart. 





THE INDIAN CARRYING OFF m'dQUGAL CHILD. 




THE FRIENDLY MANOEUVRE. 

MANY years ago, a 
Scotchman and his 
wife, named M'Dou- 
gall, emigrated to 
America. Having but 
very little money, he 
purchased some land 
upon the verge of 
civilization, where it 
was sold for a low price. By great exertions 

4* (41) 




42 STOKIES OF THE INDIANS. 

and the aid of his neighbors, M'Dougall soon 
had a comfortable farm, well stocked. But 
the inconvenience of distance from the church, 
market, and mill, were felt, and caused dis- 
content with the location. 

One day, while the farmer was away at the 
mill, the duty of driving up the cows to milk 
devolved on the wife, and that thrifty and 
industrious woman went out in quest of them. 
Not accustomed to going far from the house, 
she wandered through the woods, got bewil- 
dered, and just before dark sank upon the 
ground in despair. An Indian hunter soon 
came along, and guessing her situation, in- 
duced her to follow him to his wigwam, where 
she was kindly fed and lodged for the night 
by the hunter's wife. 

In the morning, the Indian conducted his 
guest to her cattle, and thence home. M'Dou- 
gall, grateful for his service, presented him^ 
with a suit of clothes, and invited him to be- 
come his frequent visitor. Three days after- 
wards he returned, and endeavored, partly by 
signs, and partly in broken English, to induce 



THE FRIENDLY MANOEUVRE. 43 

M'Dougall to follow him ; but the Scotchman 
refused. Time was precious to him who owed 
all his comforts to hard labor, and the Indian 
repeated his entreaties in vain. The poor 
fellow looked grieved and disappointed ; but 
a moment after, a sudden thought struck him. 
Mrs. M'Dougall had a young child, which 
the Indian's quick eye had not failed to no- 
tice; and finding that words and gestures 
would not persuade his Scotch friend, he ap- 
proached the cradle, seized the child, and 
darted out of the house with the speed of the 
antelope. The father and mother instantly 
followed, calling loudly on him to return ; but 
he had no such intention. He led them on, 
now slower, now faster, occasionally turning 
towards them, laughing and holding up the 
child to their view. After proceeding in this 
manner for some time, the Indian halted on 
the margin of a most beautiful prairie, covered 
with the richest vegetation, and extending 
over several thousand acres. In a moment 
after, the child was restored to its parents, 
who, wondering at such strange proceedings, 



44 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

stood awhile panting for breath. On the 
other hand, the Indian seemed overjoyed at 
the success of his manoeuvre, and never did a 
human being frisk about and gesticulate with 
greater animation. 

At length his feelings found vent in broken 
English, nearly in these words : — " Tou think 
Indian treacherous ; you think him wish 
steal the child. No, no, Indian has child of 
his own. Indian knew you long ago ; saw 
you when you not see him ; saw you hard 
working man. Some white men bad and hurt 
poor Indian. Tou not bad ; you work hard 
for your wife and child ; but you choose bad 
place ; you never make rich there. Indian 
see your cattle far in the forest ; think you 
come and catch them ; you not come ; your 
wife come. Indian find her faint and weary ; 
take her home ; wife fear go in ; think Indian 
kill her! JSTo, no! Indian lead her back; 
meet you very sad ; then very glad to see 
her. Tou kind to Indian; give him meat 
and drink and better clothes than your own. 
Indian grateful; wish you come here; not 



THE FRIENDLY MANOEUVRE. 4. > 

come; Indian very sorry; take the child, 
know you follow child ; if Indian farm, In- 
dian farm here. Good ground ; not many 
trees ; make road in less than half a moon ; 
Indian help you. Indians your friends ; come, 
live here." 

M'Dougall instantly saw the advantages of 
the change, and taking the red man's advice, 
the day was soon fixed for the removal of his 
log-house, along with the rest of his goods and 
chattels; and the Indian, true to his word, 
brought a party of his red brethren to assist 
in one of the most romantic removals that 
ever took place. A fertile spot was selected 
in the " garden of the desert," a fine farm soon 
smiled around, and M'Dougall had no cause 
to regret the Indian's friendly manoeuvre. 





GRAND-SUN. 




RAND-SUN was a chief of 
the Natchez tribe. Sun 
was a common name for all 
chiefs of that nation; this 
chief was particularly dis- 
tinguished in the first war 
with the French, in which the Natchez en- 
gaged, and the title of Great-Sun was given 
him by his people. He was brave, wise, and 
generous, and a friend to the whites until the 
(46) 




THE PARTING OF GRAND-SUN AND GRIFFIN. 



GRAND-SUN. 19 

haughty and overbearing disposition of one 
man brought ruin upon the whole colony. 
The affair occurred in 1729. 

Grand-Sun resided in the beautiful village 
called White Apple, near the French post of 
Natchez, the commandant of which was M. 
Chopart. This officer had been removed from 
his post on account of his misconduct and 
and abominable injustice towards the Indians, 
but had been reinstated, and his conduct had 
been the same as before. He projected the 
building an elegant village, and none appeared 
to suit his purpose so well as the White Ap- 
ple of Grand-Sun. He sent for the chief to 
the fort, and unhesitatingly told him that he 
must give up his village, and remove else- 
where. Grand-Sun stifled his surprise, and 
replied, " that his ancestors had lived in that 
village for as many years as there were hairs 
in his double queu, and, therefore, it was good 
that they should continue there still. ?? This 
was interpreted to the commandant, and he 
became so enraged, that he threatened Grand- 
Sun with punishment if he did not comply. 

5 



50 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

A council of the Natchez was held. Thev 
saw that all was hopeless, unless they could 
rid themselves of Ghopart by some stratagem. 
They decided to attempt it. To gain time, 
an offer was made to the commandant, of tri- 
bute, in case he should permit them to remain 
on their lands until harvest. The offer was 
accepted, and the Indians matured their plan. 
Bundles of sticks were sent to the neighbor- 
ing tribes, and their meaning explained. 
Each bundle contained as many sticks as 
days before the massacre of the French at 
Natchez ; and that no mistake should arise 
in regard to the fixed day, every morning a 
stick was drawn from the bundle and broken 
in pieces, and the day of the last stick was 
that of the execution. 

The secret was confided to none but the 
older warriors, who could be depended upon. 
But Grand-Sun was compelled to make a 
great sacrifice of private feeling in revenging 
the wrongs of his countrymen. He had won 
the respect and esteem of several of the 
French hunters by his generosity and other 



GEAND-SUN. 51 

noble qualities; and the very intimate ac- 
quaintance of one of them in particular. This 
was Armand Griffin, whose family resided at 
Natchez, while he engaged in the laborious 
but profitable business of hunting, Grand- 
Sun and Griffin had become close friends. The 
hospitable door of the chief's wigwam was 
ever open to the hunter, and the latter fre- 
quently visited him, Grand-Sun had in- 
structed him in all the mysteries of wood- 
craft, and Griffin being naturally of a daring 
and restless temper, had become one of the 
boldest and best hunters in that part of the 
country. In return, he instructed Grand-Sun 
in many of the arts of the white man, and 
thus mutual services strengthened the links 
of friendship. 

When Grand-Sun had matured his scheme 
of revenge, he thought of the situation of 
Griffin's family, and without hinting his pur- 
pose, advised the hunter to remove them for 
a time. But he either would not or could 
not, disregarding the earnest entreaties of the 
chief to that effect. As the appointed day 



52 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

approached, and the security of feeling among 
the French promised success to the scheme 
of massacre, Grand-Sun renewed his entrea- 
ties, but still without daring to disclose the 
secret intent. Griffin not only said that his 
family must remain at the post, but that he 
himself must be there upon the day which 
the chief knew was fixed for the dreadful re- 
venge. After a struggle between friendship 
and patriotism, the chief with stoic fortitude 
resolved to sacrifice his friend rather than 
disclose his scheme and thus trust to the 
white man's faith for keeping such a secret. 
About sunset the day before the massacre, 
Griffin and Grand-Sun, who had been out 
hunting during the day, arrived at the verge 
of the village of White Apple. A crowd of 
red men were assembled to welcome their 
great chief. The friends stopped upon an 
elevated piece of ground near the Indians. 
Grand-Sun had just been urging upon his 
friend the removal of his family from the fort. 
But as Griffin had given signs of beginning 
to suspect something wrong, he suddenly 



GRAND-SUN. 53 

checked his persuasive appeal and taking his 
hand, thus bade him farewell for ever. 

" White man, you are my friend. We have 
eat, slept, and hunted together. My wigwam 
ever welcomed you, and you repaid me. The 
belt of friendship has been brighten between 
us, and it should not be soiled. The great 
fire of day is fast going out, and you must re- 
turn to your pretty wife and children. When 
it shall again be kindled, many things may 
be done which may part us for ever. Fare- 
well!" The bold hunter was affected by the 
manner of the chief, and for a while hung his 
head as if a gloom had come over him. But 
rousing himself, he bade the chief farewell, 
and returned to the post at Natchez. 

Suspecting what he should have suspected 
long before, Griffin, as soon as he returned to 
the fort, bade his wife and children prepare 
themselves for leaving the place, and she 
complied, with many questions concerning 
the reason for this strange movement. Griffin 
could not exactly say. But he had resolved 
to leave the fort, and take shelter in a neigh- 

5* 



54: STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

boring Indian village belonging to the Nat- 
chez, and in an opposite direction from White 
Apple. Here he had a friend, and he would 
feel secure. The escape was accomplished. 

The next day the fort was surprised and 
the whole body of the French within the fort 
and its neighborhood were massacred. Griffin 
and his family, and a few hunters alone es- 
caped, and all these through the interposition 
of Grand-Sun, who thus remained true to 
friendship, while he maintained and executed 
his scheme for relieving his countrymen from 
the oppressor. This great chief not long af- 
terwards, was taken prisoner by a French 
expedition from Louisiana, his people almost 
annihilated, and he, the "last of his line," 
died in his dungeon. Griffin ever cherished 
his memory, and exerted himself to save him, 
but in vain. The white man was relentless. 




THE COUNCIL OF VINCENNES. 




THE PROPHEI 



TECUMSEH AND THE PROPHET. 

TECUMSEH, (tin 
Crouching Pan- 
ther,) was one of the 
greatest chiefs who 
ever led the red men 
to battle. He was by 
mmf r/WSS^^^ birth a Snawanee, a 
tribe which has ever been noted for its aver* 

(57) 




58 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

sion to the whites. He was born about 1770, 
and first became distinguished in 1792, when, 
at the head of a small band of warriors, he 
surprised and murdered a party of whites 
upon Hacker's Creek. From that time he 
continued to acquire a reputation for all the 
qualities, which, in the estimation of the In- 
dians, make up a great leader. 

In 1809, Governor Harrison, agreeably to 
instructions from government, purchased of 
the Delawares, Miamis, and Shawanees, the 
country on both sides of the Wabash, and ex- 
tending sixty miles above Vincennes. Te- 
cumseh demurred to the sale, and Harrison, 
wishing to conciliate him, appointed the 12th 
day of August, 1810, as the time, and Vin- 
cennes, as the place, for holding a council to 
settle his claims. In this council, Tecumseh 
delivered a speech, which eloquently unfolded 
his views of the aggressions of the white 
men, and urged that the sale of the land was 
invalid, because not made with the consent 
of all the red men living upon it. After Te- 
cumseh had concluded his speech, and was 




BATTLE OE TIPPECANOE. 



TECUMSEH AND THE PROPHET. 61 

about to seat himself, lie observed that no 
chair had been placed for him. Harrison im- 
mediately ordered one, and as the interpreter 
handed it to him, he said, "Your father re- 
quests you to take a chair." "My father!" 
said Tecumseh, with sublime dignity, "the 
sun is my father, and the earth is my mother, 
and on her bosom will I repose ;" and imme- 
diately seated himself upon the ground. 
When the council had concluded, Tecumseh 
expressed his intention to fight rather than 
yield the ground. " It is my determination," 
said he, " nor will I give rest to my feet until 
I have united all the red men in the like 
resolution." 

The threat was soon executed. The active 
chief visited all the western tribes from the 
Winnebagoes to the Creeks, and made use of 
all means of persuasion to unite them, with 
one aim, the maintenance of their country 
free from the rule of the white man. Super- 
stition is mighty among the red men, and 
Tecumseh had the means of turning it to his 
purpose. His brother, the well-known Pro- 

6 



62 STOKIES OP THE INDIANS. 

phet, (Ellskwatawa,) had obtained a reputa- 
tion among the neighboring Indians, as a 
medicine-man and conjurer. He announced 
that the Great Spirit had conversed with him, 
and commissioned him to restore the red men 
to their primitive power. The Indians be- 
lieved in the truth of the commission, and the 
Prophet, by his craft and eloquence succeeded 
in gaining an influence among them, second 
only to that of his great-spirited brother. A 
formidable confederacy was soon formed of 
which Tecumseh was the head. 

The battle of Tippecanoe was fought on the 
night of November 6, 1811, in which sixty-two 
Americans were killed and one hundred and 
twenty-six wounded. The Prophet is said to 
have conducted the attack, but did not ex- 
pose himself to danger. The vigilance of 
Harrison, and the bravery of his men, re- 
pulsed the Indians, inflicting upon them a 
severe loss. Tecumseh was not in the battle. 

When the war broke out between Great 
Britain and the United States, Tecumseh 
seized the opportunity to join the British ge- 




BATTLE OF THE THAMES. 



TECUMSEH AND THE PROPHET. 65 

neral with a large body of his warriors. He 
received the commission of brigadier-general 
in the British army. During the latter part 
of his active life, he was under the direction 
of General Proctor ; but is said to have been 
greatly dissatisfied with his proceedings. 
After Perry's victory on Lake Erie, Proctor 
abandoned Detroit, and retreated up the 
Thames, pursued by General Harrison, with 
the American army. Harrison overtook him 
near the Moravian town, on the 5th of Octo- 
ber, 1813. By a novel manoeuvre, ordered 
by Harrison, and executed by Colonel John- 
son, the British line was broken and put to 
flight. The Indians, commanded by Tecum- 
seh, maintained their ground, with a noble 
determination. The great chief fought with 
desperation, until a shot in the head from an 
unknown hand, laid him dead upon the field. 
His warriors, as if they had lost their spirit, 
then fled, leaving about one hundred and 
twenty men dead upon the field. 

Tecumseh was about forty-four years of age 
when he fell. He was about five feet ten in- 

6* 



66 



STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 




TECUMSEH. 

ches in height, and of a noble appearance. 
His carriage was erect and lofty — his motions 
quick — his eyes keen, black, and piercing — 
his visage stern, with an air of hauteur, which 
expressed his pride of spirit. He is said to 
have been reserved and stern in his manners. 
After his fall, the Indians became anxious to 
secure peace, convinced that their cause was 
hopeless. The Prophet lost their confidence, 
and sunk into insignificance. 




BUKYING THE HATCHET. 




PLACE D'AKMES, MONTREAL. 



THE DESTRUCTION OF MONTREAL. 

BOUT 1687, the Iroquois, from 
some neglect on the part of 
the governor of New York, 
were induced to join the 
French interest; and in a 
council which was held in the Iroquois coun- 
try, the hatchet was buried and a treaty con- 

(69) 




70 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

eluded, by which the Indians promised to be- 
come the firm allies of the French. The Di- 
nondadies, a tribe of the Hurons, were con- 
sidered as belonging to the confederate In- 
dians, but from some cause they were dissa- 
tisfied with the league with the French, and 
wished by some exploit to indicate that they 
preferred the English interest. 

Adaris, nicknamed by the French, "the 
Rat," was the head chief of the Dinondadies, 
and famous for his courage and cunning. He 
put himself at the head of one hundred war- 
riors, and intercepted the ambassadors of the 
Five Nations at one of the falls in Hadarak- 
kin river, killing some and taking others pri- 
soners. These he informed that the French 
governor had told him that fifty warriors of 
the Five Nations were coming that way to 
attack him. They were astonished at the 
governor's perfidiousness, and so completely 
did Adaris' s plot succeed, that these ambas- 
sadors were deceived into his interest. The 
Five Nations did not doubt that this outrage 
upon their ambassadors was owing to the 



THE DESTRUCTION OF MONTREAL. 71 

treachery of the French governor, and they 
immediately formed a scheme of revenge, the 
object of which was the destruction of Montreal. 

At that time the island of Montreal con- 
tained the largest and most flourishing set- 
tlement in Canada. It contained about fif- 
teen hundred inhabitants, and many flourish- 
ing plantations. The Indians thought that 
if they could destroy Montreal, the French 
power in Canada might easily be annihilated 
They assembled about twelve hundred of their 
bravest warriors, and marched for the banks 
of the St. Lawrence, with great secrecy and 
rapidity. The time fixed for the attack was 
the 26th of July, 1688, when the harvest was 
approaching. 

Just before day break, on the morning of 
the 26th, the whole body of the Indians 
crossed the river, and advanced towards the 
settlement, endeavoring to make their march 
as secret as possible. The great body of the 
French settlers were reposing in security, but 
here and there an early and industrious far- 
mer was abroad, looking after his farm and 



72 



STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 




BOULARD DISCOVERING THE INDIANS. 

cattle. One of these, named Boulard, was 
the first to discover the approach of the 
enemy. He was walking down his lane, be- 
tween a thicket and his wheat-field, when he 
heard a strange rustling in the bushes, at a 
little distance, and he stopped and leaned 
against a fence to observe what caused it. 
Boulard had not waited long before he 
caught sight of the form of two or three red 
men coming through the wood, and he was 
discovered by them at the same time. As one 
of them rushed toward him, gun in hand, he 
sprang into his wheat-field and endeavored to 



THE DESTRUCTION OF MONTREAL. 



73 




BURNING OF MONTREAL. 



conceal the direction he took. A volley of 
musketry followed him, and he was wounded, 
yet he kept on, fear giving him extraordinary 
strength, and he reached the house of a neigh- 
bor. The alarm was given ; but it was too 
late. Twelve hundred red men, like so many 
bloodhounds, were let loose upon unprepared 
settlers. An awful silence followed. Houses 
were burned, plantations destroyed and the 
inhabitants butchered. But little resistance 



74 STOKIES OF THE INDIANS. 

was offered to the Indians, and that was soon 
crushed. About four hundred persons were 
killed upon the spot, and the Indians retreated 
carrying with them a large number of priso- 
ners, who were doomed to a more dreadful 
death. The loss of the Indians in the expe- 
dition was trifling. 

The destruction of Montreal was a terrible 
blow to the French, and it was so well fol- 
lowed up by the powerful Iroquois, that it is 
thought, if the Indians had been acquainted 
with the art of attacking fortified places, the 
enemy would have been forced to abandon 
Canada. But they had not the necessary 
knowledge ; and the English were not wise 
enough to supply them with it. The French 
maintained their ground, and the Iroquois 
were afterwards punished for their unscru- 
pulous warfare. 





A BUFFALO HUNT. 




A BUFFALO HUNT. 

^HE buffalo hunt, next to the Indian 
battle, is the most intensely ex- 
citing scene which may be wit- 
nessed among the wilds of the 
west. To the buffalo, the Indian looks for 
food, for clothing, and for religious and house- 
hold implements. He regards the hunting 

7* (77) 




78 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

of that animal not only as a pleasure, but a 
duty ; and when once it is rumored through 
a village that a herd of buffalo is in sight, 
their warriors who have faced death in a hun- 
dred forms, bring out their sw T iftest horses, 
and spring upon them ; and w r hen the whole 
party rush across the field eager to engage 
the bellowing herd, a scene is presented for 
which it would be in vain to look for a parallel, 
even among the cane-brakes of Africa, or the 
jungles of India. 

The Indians have several methods of at- 
tacking buffaloes. The most exciting as well 
as the most dangerous one is that in which 
they run round the herd for the purpose of 
destroying it. The hunters, well-mounted 
with bows and lances, divide themselves into 
two columns, take opposite directions, and at 
the distance of a mile or two, draw gradually 
around the herd, and having formed a circle, 
close upon their prey at regular distance On 
seeing the danger, the herd run in the oppo- 
site direction, where they are met by the 
other party. The circle is gradually closed, 



A BUFFALO HUNT. 79 

and the parties unite. By this time, the buf- 
faloes are wheeling about in a crowded and 
confused mass, wounding and climbing upon 
each other. Then their destruction com- 
mences. Galloping round, the hunters drive 
the arrows and lances to the hearts of their 
victims. Sometimes, the animals, furious 
from their wounds, plunge forward, and bear 
down horse and rider, goring and crushing 
the former, while the active Indian escapes. 
Sometimes the herd divides in two, and the 
hunters, blinded by clouds of dust, are wedged 
in among the crowding beasts, when their 
only chance of escape is to leap over the backs 
of the herd, leaving the horse to his fate. Oc- 
casionally, a buffalo selects a particular horse- 
man, and pursues him at full speed, until, 
when stooping to lift the horse upon his horns, 
he receives in the side the warrior's shaft. 
Some of the Indians, when pursued, throw 
their buffalo robe over the horns and eyes of 
the furious animal, and, dashing by its side, 
drives the weapon to its heart. Others .dash 
off upon the prairie, in pursuit of the few 



80 



STORIES OP THE INDIANS. 



who got separated from the herd. In a few 
moments, the hunt is changed into a despe- 
rate battle, and gradually the whole mass of 
buffaloes sink in death. 

The hunters then dismount from their 
horses, and claim their prey by drawing the 
arrows or lances from the sides of the dead 
beasts, and showing their private marks. 
Quarrels are generally avoided by this plan. 
After all the animals have been claimed, the 
warriors hold a council, and after smoking a 
few pipes, ride into the village and announce 
the result. Of course, every thing there is 
in commotion, and soon long processions of 
dogs and women issue forth, skin and cut up 
the prey, and return amid loud acclamations 
to their homes. 





O 

o 
P* 
< 

a 



mrrfwA 



- W 




TREATMENT OF INDIAN CHILDEEN. 



p ;^-^- x HOSE who have had the best 
j opportunities for knowing 
the real character of the In- 
| dians, have remarked, among 
many other good traits, the 
great affection they have for 
their children, and the respect which young 
people pay, not only to their parents, but to 
all elderly people. 

(83) 




84 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

Before the little papoose can walk alone, 
it is confined in a cradle, which is carried on 
the mother's back while she is at her work, 
or set upright against the wall, or a tree. 
The mother teaches her children how to make 
leggins, moccasons, and many other things 
that have already been described ; and if she 
be a good mother, as many of the squaws are, 
she is particular in keeping her daughters 
constantly employed, so that they may have 
the reputation of being industrious girls, 
which is a recommendation to the young men 
to marry them. Corporal punishment is sel- 
dom used for the correction of children ; but 
if they commit any fault, it is common for 
the mother to blacken their faces, and send 
them out of the lodge. Sometimes they are 
kept a whole day in this situation, as a pu- 
nishment for their misconduct. They think 
that corporal punishment breaks the spirit 
of the child, and in this they appear to be 
wiser than their white brethren. Parental 
love should persuade and guide the bold of 
spirit, not destroy their courage. 



TREATMENT OF INDIAN CHILDREN. 85 

When the boys are six or seven years of 
age, a small bow and arrows are put into 
their hands, and they are sent out to shoot 
birds around the lodge or village ; this they 
continue to do for five or six years, and then 
their father procures for them short guns, and 
they begin to hunt ducks, geese, and small 
game. They are then gradually instructed 
in the whole art of hunting, and lastly of 
warfare. 

The Indians generally appear to be more 
afflicted at the loss of an infant, or young 
child, than at that of a person of mature 
years. The latter, they think, can provide 
for himself in the country whither he has 
gone, but the former is too young to do so. 
The men appear ashamed to show any signs 
of grief, at the loss of any relation, however 
dear he might have been to them ; but the 
women do not conceal their feelings ; and on 
the loss of either husband or child, they cut 
off their hair, disfigure their face and limbs 
with black paint, and even with cuts, and burn 
all their clothes except a few miserable rags. 

8 




MRS. HANSON AND HER CHILDREN. 




|HE colonists . of New England, 
and especially of New Hamp- 
shire, were rarely free from 
apprehension of attack from 
their savage neighbors. A de- 
sultory warfare was carried on, even when 
treaties seemed to have secured peace. Houses 
were burned, farms, teeming with the fruits 
of toil, destroyed, and the inhabitants either 
(86) 




MRS. HANSON AXD HER CHILDREN, 



MRS. HANSON AND HER CHILDREN. 89 

murdered or made captive. Many instances 
are recorded, of suffering and torture inflicted 
upon families, which have been thus attacked. 
One of the most remarkable has been pre- 
served in the words of one of the victims, Mrs. 
Elizabeth Hanson. 

On the 27th of June, 1724, a party of In- 
dians were discovered in the neighborhood of 
the house of John Hanson, in Dover township, 
New Hampshire. They had been lurking in 
the fields several days, watching their oppor- 
tunity, when Mr. Hanson and his men should 
be out of the way. At the favorable moment, 
thirteen Indians, all naked, and armed with 
tomahawks and guns, rushed into the house, 
killing one child as soon as they entered the 
door. The leader came up to Mrs. Hanson, 
but gave her quarter. At the time of the 
attack, she had a servant and six children. 
Two of the little ones were at play in the or- 
chard, and the youngest child, only fourteen 
days old, was in the cradle. 

The Indians set about rifling the house, 
fearing to be interrupted by the return of some 

8* 



90 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

of the men, and packed up every thing that 
pleased them, and which they could conve- 
niently carry. The two children running in 
from the orchard, the Indians killed one to 
prevent its shrieking, and gave the other to 
the mother. The dead children were scalped, 
and the mother, the servant, and the remain- 
ing children, were taken hastily from the 
house. Mrs. Hanson was weak, yet she had 
no alternative but to go, or die, and her child- 
ren were frightened into silence. After wading 
through several swamps, and some brooks, 
and carefully avoiding every thing like a road, 
the party halted at night-fall, about ten miles 
from Mrs. Hanson's house. A fire was lighted, 
and a watch set, while the rest of the party 
sought repose. 

Just as the day appeared, the Indians were 
awake, and, with their captives, set out again 
and travelled very hard all that day through 
swamps and woods without a path. At night 
all lodged upon the cold ground, wet and 
weary. Thus for twenty-six days, day by 
day, the party travelled, over mountains, 



MRS. HANSON AND HER CHILDREN. 91 

through tangled thickets, and across rivers 
and swamps, sometimes without any food but 
pieces of beaver skin, and enduring hardships, 
to which the Indians were accustomed, but 
which the poor captives could scarcely bear. 

At the end of twenty-six clays, the party 
reached the borders of Canada, and as they 
were compelled to separate, the captive family 
was divided between them. This was a sore 
parting, but the mother had become resigned 
to her fate, and taught her children by ex- 
ample how to suffer. The eldest daughter, 
about sixteen years of age, was first taken 
away, and soon after, the second daughter 
and the servant, at that time very weak for 
want of food, were divided between Indians 
going to different parts of the country. The 
mother, her babe and little boy remained with 
the chief, and soon arrived at his village. 

The captives were now well provided with 
food, but were compelled to sleep upon the 
cold ground in a wigwam. As the wigwam 
was often removed from place to place for 
the convenience of hunting, and the winter 



92 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

was approaching, the lodging became disa- 
greeable, and the small children suffered se- 
verely. When the chief arrived at the In- 
dian fort, he was received with great rejoicing, 
and every savage manifestation of respect. 
The shouting, drinking, feasting, and firing 
of guns continued several days. 

The chief had not long been at home, be- 
fore he went out on a hunting excursion, and 
was absent about a week. Mrs. Hanson was 
left in his wigwam, and ordered to get in 
wood, gather nuts, &c. She diligently per- 
formed what she had been commanded ; but 
when the chief returned, he was in an ill- 
humor; not having found any game. He 
vented his spleen upon the poor captives, of 
course. Mrs. Hanson was roughly treated, 
and her son knocked down. She did not dare 
to murmur, however, fearing his anger. 

The squaw and her daughter, sympathized 
with the captives, informed them that the 
chief was anxious now to put them to death, 
and that they must sleep in another wigwam 
that night. During the night Mrs. Hanson 



MRS. HANSON AND HER CHILDREN. 93 

slept very little, being in momentary expec- 
tation that the chief would come to execute 
his threat. But the chief, weary with hunt- 
ing, went to rest and forgot it. The next 
morning he went out hunting again, and re- 
turned with some wild ducks. He was then 
in a better humor, and all had plenty to eat. 
The same state of things occurred very fre- 
quently, and Mrs. Hanson was in constant 
fear of death. Sometimes she suffered much 
from want of food. 

By this time, hard labor, mean diet, and 
want of natural rest, had reduced Mrs. Han- 
son so low, that her milk was dried up, and 
her babe thin and w^eak. By the advice of 
an Indian squaw, she made some nourishing 
broth for her babe, by broiling some kernels 
of walnuts, and mixing them with water and 
Indian meal. But her joy at the success of 
this invention was clouded by the action of 
the chief. Observing the thriving condition 
of the child, he made the mother undress it, 
and told her he intended to eat it as soon as 
it was fat enough. This was a terrible blow 



94 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

to the hopes which Mrs. Hanson had begun 
to conceive, and his cruel treatment of her 
and her children was aggravated every day, 
till, at length, he fell violently ill, and for a 
time lingered on the brink of death. He 
thought that this was a judgment of God upon 
him for his cruelty, and he professed repent- 
ance. After this he soon recovered, and the 
captives were better treated. 

The chief, a few weeks after his recovery, 
made another remove, journeying two days 
upon the ice, while the snow was falling. 
Mrs. Hanson soon perceived the object of his 
journey. The chief, with the hope of obtain- 
ing a ransom for his captives, wished to get 
nearer to the French. He visited the latter, 
but returned in a very bad humor. Mrs. 
Hanson was compelled to lodge in a sort of 
hole made in the snow, and covered with 
boughs, in order to keep from his presence. 

At length the captives were taken to the 
French, and after some trouble and delay, 
ransomed for six hundred livres. They were 
treated very kindly and furnished with all 



MRS. HANSON AND HER CHILDREN, 95 

those things of which they had been so long 
destitute. One month after they fell into 
the hands of the French, Mr. Hanson came 
to them with the hope of ransoming the other 
children and servant. With much difficulty 
he recovered his younger daughter, but the 
eldest was retained by the squaw to whom 
she had been given, as she intended to marry 
her to her son. No means could induce the 
squaw to surrender the daughter, and the 
party were forced to return without her. The 
servant was ransomed. On the 1st of July, 
1725, the party arrived home, having been 
among the Indians and French more than 
twelve months, and, having suffered every 
hardship which the captive of the Indian 
generally endures. 

Mr. Hanson could not rest while his 
daughter remained in the hands of the In- 
dians, and he resolved to make another at- 
tempt to ransom her. On the 19th of Feb- 
ruary, 1727, he set out on his journey, but 
died on the way, between Albany and Canada. 
In the meantime, a young Frenchman inter- 



96 



STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 



posed, and by marrying the daughter himself, 
secured her freedom; the Indians acknow- 
ledging the freedom of their captives as soon 
as married by the French. The daughter re- 
turned to her anxious and suffering mother 
and sisters, and thus gave them some conso- 
lation for the loss of Mr. Hanson. 





SHON-KA. 




SHON-KA. 



THE STORY OF SHON-KA. 



R. CATLIJNF met with many in- 
teresting adventures, while 
visiting the numerous and 
savage tribes of the great 
west, for the purpose of seeing 
and judging for himself, of their habits and 
modes of life. One of these he details in his 
valuable work, as "The Story of the Dog/ 7 

(99) 




100 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

and as it is a fine illustration of the dangers 
encountered by adventurers among the In- 
dians, and of the certainty of revenge which 
follows an injury, we here insert it. 

I had passed up the Missouri river, on the 
steamboat Yellow Stone, on which I ascended 
the Missouri to the mouth of Yellow Stone 
river. While going up, this boat, having on 
board the United States Indian agent. Major 
Sanford — Messrs. Pierre, Chouteau, McKenzie 
of the American Fur Company, and myself, 
as passengers, stopped at this trading-post, 
and remained several weeks ; where were as- 
sembled six hundred families of Sioux In- 
dians, their tents being pitched in close order 
on an extensive prairie on the bank of the 
river. 

This trading-post, in charge of Mr. Laidlaw, 
is the concentrating place, and principal 
depot, for this powerful tribe, who number, 
when all taken together, something like forty 
or fifty thousand. On this occasion, five or 
six thousand had assembled to see the steam- 
boat, and meet the Indian agent, which, and 



THE STORY OF SHON-KA. 101 

whom they knew were to arrive about this 
time. During the few weeks that we re- 
mained there, I was busily engaged painting 
my portraits, for here were assembled the 
principal chiefs and medicine-men of the na- 
tion. To these people, the operations of my 
brush were entirely new and unaccountable, 
and excited amongst them the greatest curi- 
osity imaginable. Every thing else, even the 
steamboat, was abandoned for the pleasure 
of crowding into my painting-room, and wit- 
nessing the result of each fellow's success, as 
he came out from under the operation of my 
brush. 

They had been at first much afraid of the 
consequences that might flow from so strange 
and unaccountable an operation ; but having 
been made to understand my views, they be- 
gan to look upon it as a great honor, and af- 
forded me the opportunities that I desired ; 
exhibiting the utmost degree of vanity for 
their appearance, both as to features and 
dress. The consequence was, that my room 
was filled with the chiefs who sat around, ar- 

9* 



102 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

ranged according to the rank or grade which 
they held in the estimation of their tribe ; 
and in this order it became necessary for me 
to paint them, to the exclusion of those who 
never signalized themselves, and were with- 
out any distinguishing character in society. 

The first man on the list, was Ha-wan-ghee- 
ta, (one horn,) head chief of the nation, and 
after him the subordinate chief, or chiefs of 
bands, according to the estimation in which 
they were held by the chief or tribe. My 
models were thus placed before me, whether 
ugly or beautiful, all the same, and I saw at 
once there was to be trouble somewhere, as I 
could not paint them all. The medicine-men 
or high priests, who are esteemed by many 
the oracles of the nation, and the most im- 
portant men in it — becoming jealous, com- 
menced their harangues, outside of the lodge, 
telling them that they were all fools — that 
those who were painted would soon die in 
consequence ; and that these pictures, which 
had life to a considerable degree in them, 
would live in the hands of white men after 



THE STOEY OF SHON-KA. 103 

they were dead, and make them sleepless and 
endless trouble. 

Those whom I had painted, though evi- 
dently somewhat alarmed, were unwilling to 
acknowledge it, and those whom I had not 
painted, unwilling to be outdone in courage, 
allowed me the privilege ; braving and defy- 
ing the danger that they were evidently more 
or less in dread of. Feuds began to arise 
too, among some of the chiefs of the differ- 
ent bands, who, (not unlike some instances 
among the chiefs and warriors of our own 
country,) had looked upon their rival chiefs 
with unsleeping jealousy, until it had grown 
into disrespect and enmity. An instance of 
this kind presented itself at this critical 
juncture, in this assembly of inflammable 
spirits, which changed in a moment, its fea- 
tures, from the free and jocular garrulity of 
an Indian levee, to the frightful yells and 
agitated treads and starts of an Indian battle. 
I had in progress at this time, a portrait of 
Mah~to-tchee-ga, (little bear;) of the One-pa- 
pa band, a noble fine fellow, who was sitting 



104 STORIES OP THE INDIANS. 

before me as I was painting. I was painting 
almost a profile view of his face, throwing a 
part of it into shadow, and had it nearly 
finished, when an Indian by the name of 
Shon-ka, (the dog,) chief of the Caz-a-zshee-ta 
band, an ill-natured and surly man — de- 
spised by the chiefs of every other band, en- 
tered the wigwam in a sullen mood, and seated 
himself on the floor in front of my sitter, where 
he could have a full view of the picture in its 
operation. After sitting a while with his 
arms folded, and his lips stifly arched with 
contempt, he sneeringly spoke thus : 
" Mah-to-tchee-ga is but half a man." 
Dead silence ensued for a moment, and 
nought was in motion save the eyes of the 
chiefs, who were seated around the room, and 
darting their glances about upon each other 
in listless anxiety to hear the sequel that was 
to follow ! . During this interval, the eyes of 
Mah-to-tchee-ga had not moved — his lips be- 
came slightly curved, and he pleasantly asked 
in low and steady accent, "Who says that?" 
" Shon-ka says it," was the reply, " and Shon- 



THE STORY OF SHON-KA. 105 

ka can prove it." At this the eyes of Mah- 
to-tchee-ga, which had not yet moved, began 
steadily to turn, and slow, as if upon pivots, 
and when they were rolled out of their sockets 
till they had fixed upon the object of their 
contempt; his dark and jutting brows were 
shoving down in trembling contention, with 
the blazing rays that were actually burning 
with contempt, the object that was before 
thern. " Why does Shon-ka say it?" 

"Ask "We-chash-a-wa-kon, (the painter,) 
he can tell you ; ' he knows you are but half a 
man — he has painted but one half of your 
face, and knows the other half is good for 
nothing!" 

" Let the painter say it, and I will believe 
it ; but when the Dog says it let him prove it." 

"Shon-ka has said it, and Shon-ka can 
prove it ; if Mah-to-tchee-ga be a man, and 
wants to be honored by the white men, let 
him not be ashamed ; but let him do as Shon- 
ka has done, give the white man a horse, and 
then let him see the whole of your face with- 
out being ashamed." 



106 STORIES OP THE INDIANS. 

" When Mah-to-tchee-ga kills a white man 
and steals his horses, he may be ashamed tc 
look at a white man until he brings him a 
horse ! "When Mah-to-tchee-ga waylays and 
murders an honorable and brave Sioux, be- 
cause he is a coward and not brave enough to 
meet him in fair combat, then he may be 
ashamed to look at a white man till he has 
given him a horse ! Mah-to-tchee-ga can look 
at any one ; and he is now looking at an old 
woman and a coward!" 

This repartee, which had "lasted for a few 
minutes, to the amusement and excitement 
of the chiefs, being thus ended: The Dog 
suddenly rose from the ground, and wrapping 
himself in his robe, left the wigwam, consi- 
derably agitated, having the laugh of all the 
chiefs upon him. 

The Little Bear had followed him with his 
piercing eyes until he left the door, and then 
pleasantly and unmoved, resumed his posi- 
tion, where he sat a few minutes longer, until 
the portrait was completed. He then rose, 
and in a most graceful and gentlemanly man- 



THE STOEY OF SHOX-KA. 107 

ner, presented to me a very beautiful shirt of 
buckskin, richly garnished with quills of por- 
cupine, wringed with scalp-locks (honorable 
memorials) from his enemies' heads, and 
painted, with all his battles emblazoned on 
it. He then left my wigwam, and a few steps 
brought him to the door of his own, where 
the Dog intercepted him, and asked, ""What 
meant Mah-to-tchee-ga, by the last words that 
he spoke to Shon-ka?" " Mah-to-tchee-ga said 
it, and Shon-ka is not a fool — that is enough." 
At this the Dog walked violently to his own 
lodge ; and the Little Bear retreated into his, 
both knowing from looks and gestures what 
was about to be the consequence of their 
altercation. 

The Little Bear instantly charged his gun, 
and then, as their custom is, threw himself 
upon his face, in humble supplication to the 
Great Spirit for his aid and protection. His 
wife, in the meantime, seeing him agitated, 
and fearing some evil consequences, without 
knowing any thing of the preliminaries, se- 



108 STORIES OP THE INDIANS. 

cretly withdrew the bullet from the gun, and 
told him not of it. 

The Dog's voice, at this moment, was 
heard, and recognized at the door of Mah-to- 
tchee-ga's lodge, " If Mah-to-tchee-ga be a 
whole man, let him come out and prove it ; 
it is Shon-ka that calls him !" 

His wife screamed; but it was too late. 
The gun was in his hand, and he sprang out 
of the door — both drew and simultaneously 
fired. The Dog fled uninjured ; but the Little 
Bear lay weltering in his blood (strange to 
say !) with all that side of his face shot away, 
which had been left out of the picture ; and, 
according to the prediction of the Dog, " good 
for nothing;" carrying away one half of the 
jaws, and the flesh from the nostrils and cor- 
ner of the mouth, to the ear, including one 
eye, and leaving the jugular vein entirely ex- 
posed. Here was a "coup;" and any one 
accustomed to the thrilling excitement that 
such things produce in an Indian village, can 
form some idea of the frightful agitation 
amidst several thousand Indians, who were 



THE STORY OF SHON-KA. 109 

divided into jealous bands or clans, under 
ambitious and rival chiefs ! In one minute a 
thousand guns and bows were seized! A 
thousand thrilling yells were raised ; and 
many were the fierce and darting warriors 
who sallied round the Dog for his protection- 
he fled amidst a shower of bullets and arrows ; 
but his braves were about him ! The blood 
of the Onc-pa-pas was roused, and the indig- 
nant braves of that gallant band rushed forth 
from all quarters, and, swift upon their heels, 
were hot for vengeance ! On the plain, and 
in full view of us, for some time, the whizzing 
arrows flew, and so did bullets, until the Dog 
and his brave followers were lost in distance 
on the prairie ! In this rencontre, the Dog 
had his arm broken ; but succeeded, at length, 
in making his escape. 

On the next day after this affair took place, 
Little Bear died of his wound, and was buried 
amidst the most pitiful and heart-rending 
cries of his distracted wife, whose grief was 
inconsolable at the thought of having been 
herself the immediate and innocent cause of 

10 



110 STOKIES OF THE INDIANS. 

his death, by depriving him of his supposed 
protection. 

This marvellous and fatal transaction was 
soon talked through the village, and the eyes 
of all this superstitious multitude were fixed 
on me as the cause of the calamity — my paint- 
ings and brushes were instantly packed, and 
all hands, Traders and Travellers, assumed 
at once a posture of defence. 

I evaded, no doubt, in a great measure, the 
concentration of their immediate censure 
upon me, by expressions of great condolence, 
and by distributing liberal presents to the 
wife and relations of the deceased; and by 
uniting also with Mr. Laidlaw and the other 
gentlemen, in giving him honorable burial, 
where we placed over his grave a handsome 
Sioux lodge, and hung a white flag to wave 
over it. 

On this occasion many were the tears that 
were shed for the brave and honorable Mah- 
to-tchee-ga, and all the warriors of his band 
swore sleepless vengeance on the Dog, until 
his life should answer for the loss of their chief. 



THE STORY OF SHON-KA. Ill 

On the day that he was buried, I started 
for the mouth of the Yellow Stone, and while 
I was gone, the spirit of vengeance had per- 
vaded nearly all the Sioux country in search 
of the Dog, who had evaded pursuit. His 
brother, however, a noble and honorable fel- 
low, esteemed by all who knew him, fell in 
their way in an unlucky hour, when their 
thirst for vengeance was irresistible, and they 
slew him. Eepentance deep, and grief were 
the result of this rash act, when they beheld 
a brave and worthy man fall for so worthless 
a character ; and as they became exasperated, 
the spirit of revenge grew more desperate 
than ever, and they swore they never would 
lay down their arms or embrace their wives 
and children until vengeance, full and com- 
plete, should light upon the head that deserved 
it. This brings us again to the first part of 
my story, and in this state were things in 
that part of the country, when I was descend- 
ing the river, four months afterwards, and 
landed my canoe, as I before stated, at Laid* 
law's trading-post. 



112 STORIES OP THE INDIANS. 

The excitement had been kept up all sum- 
mer among these people, and their supersti- 
tions bloated to the full brim, from circum- 
stances so well calculated to feed and increase 
them. Many of them looked at me at once 
as the author of all these disasters, consider- 
ing I knew that one half of the man's face 
was good for nothing, or that I would not have 
left it out of the picture, and that I must have 
foreknown the evils that were to flow from 
the omission; they consequently resolved 
that I was a dangerous man, and should suf- 
fer for my temerity in case the Dog could not 
be found. Councils had been held, and in all 
the solemnity of Indian medicine and mystery, 
I had been doomed to die ! At one of these, 
a young warrior of the Onc-pa-pa band, arose 
and said, " The blood of two chiefs has been 
sunk into the ground, and a hundred bows 
are bent which are ready to shed more ! on 
whom shall we bend them ? I am a friend 
to the white man, but here is one whose me- 
dicine is too great — he is a great medicine- 
man! his medicine is too great! he was the 



THE STORY OF SHON-KA. 113 

death of Mah-to-tchee-ga ! he made only one 
side of his face ! he would not make the other — 
the side that he made was alive ; the other 
was dead, and Shon-ka shot it off! How is 
this? Who is to die ?" 

After him, Tah-zee-kee-da-cha (torn belly,) 
of the Yankton band, arose, and said, " Fa- 
ther, this medicine-man has done much harm ! 
Tou told our chiefs and warriors, that they 
must be painted — you said he was a -good 
man, and we believed you ! you thought so, 
my father, but you see what he has done ! — 
he looks at our chiefs and our women and 
then makes them alive ! ! In this way he has 
taken our chiefs away, and he can trouble 
their spirits when they are dead !— they will 
be unhappy- If he can make them alive by 
looking at them, he can do us much harm ! — 
you tell us that they are not alive — -we see their 
eyes move ! — their eyes follow us wherever we 
go, that is enough ! I have no more to say !" 
After him arose a young man of the One-pa- 
pa band. " Father! you know that I am the 
brother of Mah-to-tchee-ga !— you know that 

10* 



1 14 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

I loved him — both sides of his face were good, 
and the medicine-man knew it also! "Why 
was half of his face left out ? He never was 
ashamed, but always looked white man in 
the face ! "Why was that side of his face shot 
off? Tour friend is not our friend, and has 
forfeited his life — we want vou to tell us 
where he is— we want to see him I" 

Then rose Toh-ki-e-to (a medicine-man,) of 
the Yankton band, and principal orator of 
the nation. " My friend, these are young men 
that speak — I am not afraid ! your white me- 
dicine-man painted my picture, and it was 
good* — I am glad of it — I am very glad to see 
that I shall live after I am dead ! — -I am old 
and not afraid ! — some of our young men are 
foolish. I know that this man put many of 
our buffaloes in his book ! for I was with him, 
and we have had no buffaloes since to eat, it 
is true— but I am not afraid! ! his medicine 
is great and I wish him well — we are friends. 77 

Thus rested the affair of the Dog and its con- 
sequences, until I conversed with Major Bean, 
the agent for these people, who arrived in St. 



THE STORY OF SHON-KA. 



115 



Louis some weeks after I did, bringing later 
intelligence from them, assuring me that the 
Dog had at length been overtaken and killed, 
near the Black-hills, and that the affair 
might now for ever be considered as settled. 





THE DEATH OF CANONCHET. 

ANONCHET was the sa- 
chem of the powerful 
tribe of Narragansetts, 
who inhabited a part of New 
England claimed by the govern- 
ment of Connecticut. In the 
war between the Indians and the colonists, 
which began in 1675, and is commonly called 
11 King Philip's war," the Narragansetts were 
(116) 





DEATH OF CANONCHET. 



CANONCHET. 119 

led by their own wrongs and the arts of Philip 
to join in the Indian confederacy. But they 
suffered severely for their hostility. Their 
fort was attacked by a large force of colonists, 
under Governor Winslow, and the greater 
part of them perished by the guns of the 
English, or in the flames of the burning fort. 

The remnant of the Narragansetts fled, un- 
der the command of Canonchet and Punno- 
quin, both of whom were filled with inveterate 
hatred of the colonists. Canonchet was the 
son of the celebrated Miantonomoh, and the 
remembrance of his father's fate rankled in 
his breast, and rendered him fierce and cruel 
beyond his nature. The Narragansetts reached 
the Wachusetts hills in safety, where they 
united with the Mpmucks and other friendly 
tribes. But they were in a destitute condi- 
tion, and Canonchet was obliged to make 
great exertions to supply them with food, in 
order to keep them faithful to him. 

Early in April, 1676, he proposed the dar- 
ing design of an expedition to Seekonk, to 
procure seed corn to plant along the Connec- 



120 STORIES OP THE INDIANS. 

ticut river, where he had taken refuge. At 
the head of about fifty men, he marched to- 
wards Seekonk, and soon reached Black Stone 
river. There he encamped, and imagining 
that no colonial force was nearer than Ply- 
mouth, dismissed twenty of his men. 

On the 27th of March, Captain Dennison 
had left Stonington, with a body of troops, on 
an exploring expedition, in search of Indians. 
When near Seekonk, he captured two squaws, 
who informed him of Canonchet's encamp- 
ment. The captain quickened his march, and 
as Canonchet's men, instead of giving the 
alarm, fled in different directions, the colo- 
nists were in his camp before he knew of their 
approach. The chief, seeing his men run, 
sent out two or three to ascertain the cause. 
One of these returned to the wigwam, crying 
out that the English were upon them. 

Canochet fled. While running around the 
hill near his camp, he was recognized by 
the JNanticks, who commenced a vigorous 
pursuit. The chase was long and exciting. 
One by one, the chief threw off his blanket, 



CANONCHET. 121 

his silver-laced coat, and his belt of peag. 
His pursuers gained upon him ; and giving 
up all hope of reaching the woods, he hurried 
towards the river. Monopoide, a Pequot, 
noted for his swiftness, pursued in such a 
way as to force the chief to cross or be caught. 
Canonchet plunged into the stream, and swam 
for the opposite shore. The English, filled 
with rage and fearful of being baffled, hur- 
ried to the river's "bank, in order to shoot him 
if an opportunity offered; but Canonchet 
would have escaped, had not an accident oc- 
curred, which, to use his own words, "made 
his heart and bowels turn within, so that he 
became like a rotten stick, and void of 
strength." As he reached a shallow part of 
the stream, he began to wade, when his foot 
struck against a stone, and he fell into the 
water. His gun became useless. 

Monopoide, seeing the accident, leaped into 
the water, and daringly swam towards the 
chief, who was probably intimidated by super- 
stition. When seized, Canonchet did not re- 
sist, although he was a man of great size, 

11 



122 STOKIES OF THE INDIANS. 

strength, and courage. A young man, named 
Staunton, now approached and asked the 
chief some questions in regard to his conduct 
during the war. For a while Canonchet 
treated him with silent contempt. But when 
the other had ceased, he replied, "You much 
child — no understand matters of war. Let 
your brother or chief come, him I will answer." 

Canonchet was then brought before Den- 
nison. The latter offered the chief his life on 
condition that he would induce his nation to 
submit. But he rejected the offer with con- 
tempt. He was commanded to comply. He 
answered that killing him would not end the 
war. Some of the soldiers reminded him that 
he had threatened to burn the English in 
their houses; and that in spite of a late 
treaty, he had boasted that he would not give 
up a Wampanoag, or the paring of the nail 
of a Wampanoag. He replied that others were 
as forward for the war as himself, and that 
he wished to hear no more about it. 

Dennison, filled with joy at his good fortune, 
soon after returned to Stonington. Canonchet 



CANONCHET. 123 

was not kept long in suspense, in regard to 
his fate. The officers decided that he should 
be shot. The sentence was announced to him, 
and his reply was, " I like it well. I shall 
die before my heart is soft, or I shall say any 
thing unworthy of myself." When charged 
with cruelty and treachery, he reminded his 
foes that they had killed his father, and burned 
his people at Narragansett. Through all his 
captivity, Canonchet evinced a pride of soul 
that danger could not fright nor suffering bend. 
The "last of the Narragansetts," as Ca- 
nonchet has been termed, was led out to die, 
" and that all might share in the glory of de- 
stroying so great a prince, and come under 
the obligation of fidelity, each to the other, the 
Pequots shot him, the Mohegans cut off his 
head, and quartered his body, and the Nan- 
ticks made the fire and burned his quarters ; 
and as a token of fidelity to the English, pre- 
sented his head to the council at Hartford." 
The modern reader views the detail of this 
execution with disgust. But the colonists 
then thought them wise and just. 



124 STOEIES OP THE INDIANS. 

The death of Canonchet was a severe loss 
to the Indians. Endowed with a high and 
generous spirit, he had obtained a great and 
rare influence among his own and other 
tribes, and could at any time summon to the 
aid of Philip, many faithful and efficient men. 
He bound men to his interest by appealing 
to their love of what is great and heroic, ra- 
ther than their fears, and of all Philip's cap- 
tains, he was the most skilful leader, and the 
bravest warrior. Notwithstanding his treaty 
with the English, he refused to give up the 
fugitive Wampanoags to them ; but this re- 
fusal was owing as much to humanity of feel- 
ing as to a violation of his word. The records 
of his conduct while free and among his 
tribe, and while a captive with the whites, lead 
us to lament the fate of so able, so noble, and 
generous a man. 








< 









H 



^ it 




CHURCH AND THE XARRAGAXSETT. 



*^ FTER the great destruction 
^ of the Narragansett Indians, 
H* in King Philip's War, by the 
Connecticut forces, the rem- 
nant of the tribe were pursued 
in all directions. Winslow, 
with the main body of the troops, advanced 

(127) 




128 STOKIES OP THE INDIANS. 

rapidly towards the Mpmuck country. Dur- 
ing the pursuit, the celebrated Captain Ben- 
jamin Church met with a singular and almost 
fatal adventure. 

Church had been removed with the other 
wounded to the Narragansett's fort. But par- 
tially recovered, and being very restless, he 
had again joined the army, and was persuaded 
by Winslow to aid him in the pursuit of the 
JSarragansetts. On the route they reached 
an Indian town, situated on a small island, 
which was surrounded by a swamp. The 
water in the swamp was frozen, which pre- 
vented the soldiers from charging the wigwam. 
A spirited fire of musketry commenced, under 
cover of which the troops began to cross the 
ice. The Indians defended themselves until 
the assailants reached the island, when they 
broke and fled. A Mohegan, friendly to the 
English joined in the pursuit, and capturing 
one of the enemy, who had been wounded in 
the leg, brought him to "Winslow. 

Winslow examined him, but could not draw 
from him the wished for knowledge concern- 



CHURCH AND THE NARRAGANSETT. 129 

ing the designs of his countrymen. The cap- 
tive was threatened ; he said he had revealed 
all he knew. Many standing around de- 
manded that he should be tortured ; but by 
the advice of Church, the demand was refused. 
The army commenced its march. But as the 
Narragansett's wound prevented him from 
keeping pace with the troops, it was resolved 
to " knock him in the head.' 7 The Mohegan 
who captured him was appointed his exe- 
cutioner. Church, taking no delight in such 
things, withdrew. 

The Mohegan, elated with the honor con- 
ferred upon him, advanced towards his victim, 
flourishing his tomahawk, and evincing, by 
distortions of limb and feature, the extremity 
of his satisfaction. Suddenly, he aimed a tre- 
mendous blow at the prisoner's head, but the 
latter skilfully dodged it, and the hatchet 
flying from the Mohegan' s hand, " had like 
to have done execution, where it was not de- 
signed. " Seizing the favorable moment, the 
Narragansett broke from those who held him, 
and ran for his life. Taking the same direc- 



130 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

tion that Church had done, he unexpectedly 
ran directly upon him. Church grappled with 
him ; a short but furious scuffle ensued, but 
the Narragansett, being destitute of clothing, 
slipped from his adversary's grasp, and again 
ran. Church followed, the Indian stumbled 
and fell, and the bold volunteer again seized 
him. They fought and wrestled until the 
Indian slipped through Church's hands, and 
set out upon his third race. Church was 
close behind him, " grasping occasionally at 
his hair," which was all the hold could be 
taken of him. 

They soon reached a wide surface of ice, 
which being in some places hollow, caused a 
rumbling noise, which induced Church to 
hope that some of his friends might hear it 
and come to his relief. Unfortunately for the 
Indian, it began to grow dark, and while 
running at full speed, he came abreast of a 
fallen tree of great thickness. Why he did 
not overleap it is not known; but having 
probably became intimidated, he suddenly 
stopped and cried aloud for aid. Church was 



CHURCH AND THE NARRAGANSETT. 131 

soon upon him. The Indian seized him by 
the hair, and tried to break his neck. Church 
also laid hold of his adversary's hair with 
both hands, repaying twist for twist. While 
in this attitude, hanging by each other's hair, 
the volunteer contrived to butt the Indian 
vigorously with his head in the face. 

While this sharp scuffle was in progress, 
the ice was heard crackling at a distance, and 
soon after some person ran towards them. 
The combatants were kept in suspense, as 
the darkness prevented the new comer from 
being seen. The stranger reached them, and 
without speaking a word began to feel first 
Church and then the Indian. Amid the same 
ominous silence, he raised his hatchet, and 
sunk it in the head of the savage. It was 
the Mohegan who had acted as executioner. 
Overjoyed at having gratified his cruelty, he 
hugged Church again and again, thanked 
him for having caught his prisoner, and con- 
ducted him in triumph to the camp. Through- 
out this struggle for life, Church acted with 
his usual dauntless spirit, and the capture 



132 



STORIES OP THE INDIANS. 



of the Narragansett was owing entirely to 
his persevering courage. The Indian was 
unjustly put to death, he being fully entitled 
to be considered as a prisoner of war. But 
the colonists thought by appointing a Mohe- 
gan to be his executioner, to heighten the 
friendly feeling existing between that tribe 
and the English. 





KING PHILIP. 



■.>' 




: OF KING PHILIP. 

HEN the famous King 
Philip had lost 
the greater 
part of his war- 
riors in the 
struggle for 
life and death 
between them and the English, and he him- 

(135) 




136 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

self was hunted like a wild beast from place 
to place, he formed the strange resolve of 
visiting the ancient haunt of his ancestors at 
Mount Hope, With a few of his best friends 
he retired into that swamp which was des- 
tined to be a prison for him. His retreat 
was betrayed to Captain Church, by an In- 
dian deserter, whose brother Philip had killed 
in a fit of passion. 

Church, accompanied by Major Sandford, 
and Captain Golding, and about twenty men, 
prepared to follow the great chief to the 
swamp. He crossed Trip's ferry in the even- 
ing, and about midnight, a consultation was 
held as to the best mode of attack. Church 
offered Golding a small force that he might 
go in advance and discover the real situation 
of Philip. Golding promptly accepted it. 
Church then instructed him to be careful in 
his approach to the enemy, and be sure not 
to show himself until by daylight, that they 
might know their own men from the enemy ; 
to creep as close to the ground as possible, 
until they came quite near to the swamp, in 



THE DEATH OF KING PHILIP. 137 

order to fire upon the Indians as soon as they 
arose ; and that when the enemy should start 
for the swamp, he should pursue them with 
speed. He was to shout as loud as he could, 
for the ambuscade would receive orders to 
fire upon any one who should approach in 
silence. A colonist and an Indian were 
placed behind each shelter. The arrange- 
ments made it impossible for any one to pass 
from the swamp without being seen. 

The swamp in which Philip was concealed 
is thus described by Carne. — " It was a fit 
retreat for a despairing man, being one of 
those waste and dismal places to which few 
ever wandered, covered with rank and dense 
vegetation. The moist soil was almost hidden 
by the cypress and other trees, that spread 
their gloomy shades over the treacherous 
shallows and pools beneath. In the few drier 
parts, oaks and pines grew, and, between 
them, a brushwood so thick that the savage 
could hardly penetrate: on the long, rich 
grass of these parts, wild cattle fed, unassailed 
by the hand of man, save when they ventured 

12* 



138 STORIES OP THE INDIANS. 

beyond the confines of the swamp. There 
were wolves, deer, and other animals; and 
wilder men, it was said, were seen here ; it 
was supposed that the children of some of 
the Indians had either been lost or left there, 
and had thus grown up like denizens of this 
wild. Here the baffled chieftain gathered 
his little band around him, like a lion baited 
by the hunters, sullenly seeking his gloomy 
thickets only to spring forth more fatally. 
His love was turned to agony ; his wife was 
in the land of his enemies ; and would they 
spare her beauty? His only son, the heir 
of a long line, must bow his head to their 
yoke ; his chief warriors had all fallen, and 
he could not trust the few who were still with 
him." 

Early on the morning of the 12th of Au- 
gust, Church approached Major Sandford, and 
taking him by the hand, said that he had 
placed his men so that it was scarcely pos- 
sible for Philip to escape. At this moment, 
a single shot was heard in the distance, and 
a ball whistled through the air over their 



THE DEATH OF KING PHILIP. 139 

heads. Church imagined that it had been 
fired by accident ; but before he could speak, 
an entire volley was discharged. 

The battle had been hastened by the indis- 
cretion of Golding. An Indian, having re- 
tired at some distance from his companions, 
stood for a while looking around him, and as 
Golding supposed, directly at him. The cap- 
tain immediately fired ; and his men poured 
a volley into the Indian camp, which, as the 
savages were asleep, passed clear over them. 
Philip's men, thus unexpectedly aroused, ran 
into the swamp, and the chief, throwing his 
belt and powder horn over his head, seized 
his gun and fled. Unaware of the ambush, 
he ran directly towards one of Church's men. 
When he was quite near, the colonist levelled 
his gun, but missed fire. He bade the Indian 
fire, which he did with effect, one of the balls 
passing through the sachem's heart, and an- 
other through his lungs. He bounded into 
the air and fell upon his face in the mud. 

The battle continued, though the Indians 
fought against great odds. They were rallied 



140 STOKIES OF THE INDIANS. 

and encouraged to stand, by an old chief, who 
frequently repeated in a loud voice, the ex- 
clamation, "Iootash," a sort of war-cry in 
time of danger. Church, surprised by the 
boldness of this chief, and the loudness of his 
voice, asked his Indian servant, Peter, who 
it was. He answered that it was Philip's 
great captain, Annawon, " calling on his sol- 
diers to stand to it, and fight stoutly." But 
the efforts of the chief failed ; the greater part 
of the men, discovering that a part of the 
swamp was not surrounded, made their escape. 

Alderman, the Indian who had shot Philip, 
immediately informed Church of his exploit ; 
but the captain told him to keep silence until 
they had driven all the Indians from the 
swamp. The skirmishing continued until 
sun rise, when Annawon and the few who re- 
mained with him, escaped. In this encounter 
five Indians were killed, among whom was a 
son of the great Philip. 

Church, glad of having accomplished the 
main object of the expedition, thought it 
useless to pursue the fugitives, and hence col- 



THE DEATH OF KING PHILIP. 141 

lected his men in the place where the Indians 
had passed the night. Here he informed 
them of Philip's death, which was greeted 
with three loud cheers ; after which the sa- 
chem's body was dragged from the mud to 
the upland. In the moment of victory, Church 
forgot the magnanimity which had hitherto 
distinguished him, and joined in the jests, 
with which his men insulted the corpse of 
the man, at whose name they had formerly 
trembled. The captain ordered him to be 
beheaded and quartered, which was accom- 
plished by an old Indian executioner, the 
pieces being hung on trees. One of the hands 
which had been scarred by the splitting of a 
pistol, was given to Alderman "to show to 
such gentlemen as would bestow gratuitous 
alms upon him, and accordingly, he got many 
a penny by it," The head was placed in a 
conspicuous part of the town of Plymouth, 
where it remained many years. 

The war was considered as ended with the 
death of the leading spirit on the part of the 
Indians. It had been one of extermination 



142 STOKIES OF THE INDIANS. 

upon both sides, but the red men had suffered 
far more than the English. The character of 
Philip has been frequently drawn by able 
pens, and full justice has been rendered to 
his memory. Activity, courage, skill in war 
and diplomacy, were the remarkable features 
of his well-known character. His ends were 
lofty and startling, and he was wise in the 
choice of means. To great qualities of mind, 
he added the strongest feelings, and no part 
of his life excites our sympathies more than 
his latter days, when, bereft of friends and 
relations, he returned, broken-hearted, to the 
haunts of his youth. His hatred of the En- 
glish, was early and lasting — founded upon 
just cause, and followed up with unrelenting 
cruelty. He was a savage, untaught in the 
arts and refinements of civilization, and in 
estimating his character this should be con- 
sidered. Then will it be clear, that Philip 
was one of the greatest of Indians and the 
noblest of the unlearned children of the forest. 




AN INDIAN CONJUROR. 




INDIAN MEDICINE-MEN, 



THE RAIN MAKERS. 

HE Mandans, have diani- 
taries whom they call 
"rain makers," and "rain 
stoppers," because they 
believe in their powers to 
bring rain in case of 
|| drought, or to stop the 
rain when too strong and 
violent. Catlin gives a 
very interesting account 
of an instance in which 
the powers of these men were tested. 

13 (145) 




146 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

The Mandans, says Catlin, raise a great 
deal of corn; but sometimes a most disas- 
trous drought visits the land, destructive to 
their promised harvest. Such was the case 
when I arrived at the Mandan village, on the 
steamboat Yellow Stone. Eain had not fallen 
for many a day, and the dear little girls and 
ugly old squaws, altogether, (all of whom had 
fields of corn,) were groaning and crying to 
their lords, and imploring them to intercede 
for rain, that their little patches, which were 
now turning pale and yellow, might not be 
withered, and they be deprived of the custo- 
mary annual festivity, and the joyful occasion 
of the " roasting ears,' 7 and the "green corn 
dance." 

The chiefs and doctors sympathized with 
the distress of the w r omen, and recommended 
patience. Great deliberation, they said, was 
necessary in these cases; and though they 
resolved on making the attempt to produce 
rain for the benefit of the corn ; yet they very 
wisely resolved that to begin too soon might 
ensure their entire defeat in the endeavor: 



THE RAIN MAKERS. 147 

and that the longer they put it off, the more 
certain they would be of ultimate success. 
So, after a few days of further delay, when 
the importunities of the women had become 
clamorous, and even mournful, and almost 
insupportable, the medicine-men assembled 
in the council-house, with all their mystery 
apparatus about them — with an abundance 
of wild sage, and other aromatic herbs, with 
a fire prepared to burn them, that their 
savory odors might be sent forth to the Great 
Spirit. The lodge was closed to all the vil- 
lagers, except some ten or fifteen young men, 
who were willing to hazard the dreadful al- 
ternative of making it rain, or suffer the ever- 
lasting disgrace of having made a fruitless 
essay. 

They, only, were allowed as witnesses to 
the hocus pocus and conjurations devised by the 
doctors inside of the medicine lodge; and 
they were called up by lot, each one in his 
turn, to spend a day upon the top of the lodge, 
to test the potency of his medicine ; or, in 
other words, to see how far his voice might 



148 STOKIES OF THE INDIANS. 

be heard and obeyed amongst the clouds of 
the heavens ; whilst the doctors were burn- 
ing incense in the wigwam below, and with 
their songs and prayers to the Great Spirit 
for success, were sending forth grateful fumes 
and odors to Him " who lives in the sun and 
commands the thunders of Heaven." Wah- 
kee, (the shield,) was the first who ascended 
the wigwam at sun rise ; and he stood all day, 
and looked foolish, as he was counting over 
and over his string of mystery-beads — the 
whole village were assembled around him, 
and praying for his success. Not a cloud 
appeared — the day was calm and hot; and 
at the setting of the sun, he descended from 
the lodge and went home — "his medicine 
was not good," nor can he ever be a medicine- 
man. 

Om-pah, (the elk,) was the next; he as- 
cended the lodge at sunrise the next morning. 
His body was entirely naked, being covered 
with yellow clay. On his left arm he carried 
a beautiful shield, and a long lance in his 
right; and on his head the skin of a raven, 



THE RAIN MAKERS. 149 

the bird that soars amidst the clouds, and 
above the lightning's glare— he flourished his 
shield and brandished his lance, and raised his 
voice, but in vain ; for at sun set the ground 
was dry, and the sky was clear ; the squaws 
were crying, and their corn was withering at 
its roots. 

War-rah-pa, (the beaver,) was the next; 
he also spent his breath in vain upon the 
empty air, and came down at night— and 
Wak-a-dah-ha-hee, (the white buffalo's hair,) 
took the stand the next morning. He was a 
small, but beautifully proportioned young 
man. He was dressed in a tunic, and leggings 
of the skins of the mountain-sheep, splendidly 
garnished with the quills of the porcupine, 
and fringed with locks of hair taken by his 
own hand from the heads of his enemies. On 
his arm he carried his shield, made of the 
buffalo's hide — its boss w r as the head of the 
war-eagle — and its front was ornamented with 
"red chains of lightning." In his left hand 
he clinched his sinewy bow and one single 
arrow. The villagers were all gathered about 

13* 



150 STORIES OP THE INDIANS. 

him ; when he threw up a feather to decide 
on the course of the wind, and he commenced 
thus : " My friends ! people of the pheasants ! 
you see me here a sacrifice — I shall this day 
relieve you from great distress, and bring joy 
amongst you; or I shall descend from this 
lodge when the sun goes down, and live 
amongst the dogs and old women all my days. 
My friends ! you saw which way the feather 
flew, and I hold my shield this day in the di- 
rection where the wind comes — the lightning 
on my shield will draw a great cloud, and 
the arrow, which is selected from my quiver, 
and which is feathered with the quill of the 
white swan, will make a hole in it. My 
friends ! this hole in the lodge at my feet, 
shows me the medicine-men, who are seated 
in the lodge below me and crying to the Great 
Spirit ; and through it comes and passes into 
my nose delightful odors, which you see rising 
in the smoke to the Great Spirit above, who 
rides in the clouds and commands the winds ! 
Three days they have sat here, my friends, 
and nothing has been done to relieve your 



THE RAIN MAKERS. 151 

distress. On the first day was Wah-kee, (the 
shield,) he could do nothing ; he counted his 
beads and came down — his medicine was not 
good — his name was bad, and it kept off the 
rain. The next was Oin-pah, (the elk;) on 
his head the raven was seen, who flies 
above the storm, and he failed. War-rah-pa, 
(the beaver,) was the next, my friends ; the 
beaver lives under the water, and he never 
wants it to rain. My friends ! I see you are 
in great distress, and nothing has yet been 
done ; this shield belonged to my father the 
White Buffalo ; and the lightning you see on 
it is red ; it was taken from a black cloud, 
and that cloud will come over us to-day. I 
am the White Buffalo's Hair — and am the son 
of my father. " 

It happened on this memorable day about 
noon, that the steamboat Yellow Stone, on 
her first trip up the Missouri river, approached 
and landed at the Mandan village. I was 
lucky enough to be a passenger on this boat, 
and helped to fire a salute of twenty guns of 
twelve pounds calibre, when we first came in 



152 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

sight of the village, some three or four miles 
below. These guns introduced a new sound 
into this strange country, which the Mandans 
first supposed to be thunder ; and the young 
man upon the lodge, who turned it to good 
account, was gathering fame in rounds of ap- 
plause, which were repeated and echoed 
through the whole village ; all eyes were cen- 
tred upon him — chiefs envied him — mother's 
hearts were beating high whilst they were 
decorating and leading up their fair daughters 
to oner him in marriage, on his signal suc- 
cess. The medicine-men had left the lodge, 
and came out to bestow upon him the envied 
title of "medicine-man, or doctor," which he 
had so deservedly won — wreaths were prepared 
to decorate his brows, and eagles' plumes and 
calumets were in readiness for him ; his friends 
were all rejoiced — his enemies wore on their 
faces a silent gloom and hatred ; and his old 
sweethearts, who had formerly cast him off, 
gazed intently upon him, as they glowed with 
the burning fever of repentance. 
During all this excitement, Wak-a-dah-ha- 



THE RAIN MAKERS. 153 

hee kept his position, assuming the most 
commanding and threatening attitudes ; 
brandishing his shield in the direction of the 
thunder, although there was not a cloud to 
be seen, until he, poor fellow, being elevated 
above the rest of the village, espied; to his 
inexpressible amazement, the steamboat 
ploughing its way up the windings of the 
river below ; puffing her steam from her pipes, 
and sending forth the thunder from a twelve- 
pounder on her deck ! 

The White Buffalo's Hair stood motionless 
and turned pale, he looked awhile, and turned 
to the chief and to the multitude, and ad- 
dressed them with a trembling lip — "My 
friends, we will get no rain ! there are, you 
see, no clouds ; but my medicine is great — I 
have brought a thunder boat ! look and see 
it ! the thunder you hear is out of her mouth, 
and the lightning which you see is on the 
waters! 7 ' 

At this intelligence, the whole village flew 
to the tops of their wigwams, or to the bank 
of the river, from whence the steamer was in 



154 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

full view, and ploughing along, to their utter 
dismay and confusion. 

In this promiscuous throng of chiefs, doc- 
tors, women, children, and dogs, was mingled 
Wak-a-dah-ha-hee, (the white buffalo's hair,) 
having descended from his high place to 
mingle with the frightened throng. 

Dismayed at the approach of so strange and 
unaccountable an object, the Mandans stood 
their ground but a few moments ; when, by 
an order of the chiefs, all hands were en- 
sconced within the piquets of the village, and 
all the warriors armed for desperate defence. 
A few moments brought the boat in front of 
the village, and all was still and quiet as 
death ; not a Mandan was to be seen upon 
the banks. The steamer was moored, and 
three or four of the chiefs soon after, walked 
boldly down the bank and on to her deck, 
with a spear in one hand and the calumet or 
pipe of peace in the other. The moment they 
stepped on board, they met (to their great 
surprise and joy) their old friend, Major San- 
ford, their agent, which circumstance put an 



THE RAIN MAKERS. 155 

end to all their fears. The villagers were soon 
apprized of the fact, and the whole race of the 
beautiful and friendly Mandans was paraded 
on the bank of the river, in front of the boat. 
The " rain maker," whose apprehensions of 
a public calamity brought upon the nation 
by his extraordinary medicine, had, for the 
better security of his person from apprehended 
vengeance, secreted himself in some secure 
place, and was the last to come forward, and 
the last to be convinced that the visitation 
was a friendly one from the white people ; 
and that his medicine had not in the least 
been instrumental in bringing it about This 
information, {hough received by him with 
much caution and suspicion, at length gave 
him much relief, and quieted his mind as to 
his danger. Tet still in his breast there was 
a rankling thorn, though he escaped the 
dreaded vengeance which he had a few mo- 
ments before apprehended as at hand ; as he 
had the mortification and disgrace of having 
failed in his mysterious operations. He set 
up, however, (during the day, in his conver- 



156 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

sation about the strange arrival,) his medi- 
cines, as the cause of its approach ; asserting 
every where and to every body, that he knew 
of its coming, and that he had by his magic 
brought the occurrence about. This plea, 
however, did not get him much audience ; and 
in fact, every thing else was pretty much 
swallowed up in the guttural talk, and bustle, 
and gossip about the mysteries of the thunder 
boat ; and so passed the day, until just at 
the approach of evening, when the "White 
Buffalo's Hair," more watchful of such matters 
on this occasion than most others, observed 
that a black cloud had been jutting up in the 
horizon, and was almost directly over the 
village ! In an instant his shield was on his 
arm, and his bow in his hand, and he again 
upon the lodge ! stiffened and braced to the 
last sinew, he stood, with his face and shield 
presented to the cloud, and his bow drawn. 
He drew the eyes of the whole village upon 
him as he vaunted forth his super-human 
powers, and at the same time commanding 
the cloud to come nearer, that he might draw 



THE BAIN MAKERS. 157 

down its contents upon the heads and the 
cornfields of the Mandans ! In this wise he 
stood, waving his shield over his head, stamp- 
ing his foot and frowning as he drew his bow 
and threatening the heavens, commanding it 
to rain — his bow was bent, and the arrow 
drawn to its head, was sent to the cloud, and 
he exclaimed, "My friends, it is done! Wak- 
a-dah-ha-hee ? s arrow has entered the black 
cloud, and the Mandans will be wet with the 
waters of the skies!" His predictions were 
true ; in a few moments the clouds were over 
the village, and the rain fell in torrents. He 
stood for some time wielding his weapons 
and presenting his shield to the sky, while he 
boasted of his power and the efficacy of his 
medicine, to those who had been about him, 
and were now driven to the shelter of their 
wigwams. He, at length, finished his vaunts 
and threats, and descended from his high 
place, (in which he had been perfectly 
drenched,) prepared to receive the honors and 
the homage that were due to one so potent in 
his mysteries ; and to receive the style and 

14 



158 STOKIES OP THE INDIANS. 

title of " medicine-man." This is one of a 
hundred different modes in which a man in 
Indian countries acquires the honorable 
appellation. 

This man had "made it rain," and of 
course was to receive more than usual honors, 
as he had done much more than ordinary men 
could do. All eyes were upon him, and all 
were ready to admit that he was skilled in 
the magic art ; and must be so nearly allied 
to the Great or Evil Spirit, that he must needs 
be a man of great and powerful influence in 
the nation, and was entitled to the style of 
doctor or medicine-man. 

During the memorable night of which I 
have just spoken, the steamboat remained by 
the side of the Mandan village, and the rain 
that had commenced falling continued to poui 
down its torrents until midnight; black 
thunder roared, and vivid lightning flashed 
until the heavens appeared to be lit up with 
one unceasing and appalling glare. In this 
frightful moment of consternation, a flash 
of lightning buried itself in one of the earth- 



THE RAIN MAKERS- 150 

covered lodges of the Mandans, and killed a 
beautiful girl. Here was food and fuel fresh 
for their superstitions ; and a night of vast 
tumult and excitement ensued. The dreams 
of the new-made medicine-man were troubled, 
and he had dreadful apprehensions for the 
coming day ; for he knew that he was sub- 
ject to the irrevocable decree of the chiefs 
and doctors, who canvass every strange and 
unaccountable event, with close and super- 
stitious scrutiny, and let their vengeance fall 
without mercy upon its immediate cause. 

He looked upon his well-earned fame as 
likely to be withheld from him ; and also 
considered that his life might perhaps be de- 
manded as the forfeit for this girl's death, 
which would certainly be charged upon him. 
He looked upon himself as culpable, and sup- 
posed the accident to have been occasioned 
by his criminal desertion of his post, when 
the steamboat was approaching the village. 
Morning came, and he soon learned from 
some of his friends, the opinions of the wise 
men ; and also the nature of the tribunal that 



160 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

was preparing for him ; lie sent to the prairie 
for his three horses, which were brought in, 
and he mounted the medicine lodge, around 
which, in a few moments, the villagers were 
all assembled. " My friends," said he, " I 
see you all around me, and I am before you ; 
my medicine, you see, is great — it is too great ; 
I am young, and was too fast — I knew not 
when to stop. The wigwam of Mah-siah is 
laid low, and many are the eyes that weep 
for Ko-ka, (the antelope;) Wak-a-dah-ha-hee 
gives three horses to gladden the hearts of 
those who weep for Ko-ka ; his medicine was 
great — his arrow pierced the black cloud, and 
the lightning came, and the thunder-boat 
also ! who says that the medicine of Wak-a- 
dah-ha-hee is not strong?" 

At the end of this sentence an unanimous 
shout of approbation ran through the crowd, 
and the " Hair of the White Buffalo" descended 
amongst them, where he was greeted by shakes 
of the hand ; and amongst whom he now lives 
and thrives under the familiar and honorable 
appellation of the " Big Double Medicine." 




OCONOSTOTA. 




THE BKIDE'S RESCUE, 



ANY years ago when the 
great valley of the Missis- 
sippi was rarely trodden by 
the white men, there lived 
upon the southern frontier of 
Kentucky, then nearly a wil- 
derness, an old hunter, named Johnson. He 
was one of the pioneers of the region in which 
(163) 




-^=>«PjgJ||ggfe 



164 STOKIES OF THE INDIANS. 

he had built his log cabin, and had long pro- 
cured a comfortable subsistence for a wife 
and child by the aid of a good rifle and his 
snares. Mrs. Johnson had become accus- 
tomed to the privations of her situation ; and 
her daughter, Sarah, having arrived at the age 
of young womanhood, contributed to relieve 
the monotony of a life in the wilderness. 
The cares of the family were slight. Their 
simple food and clothing were easily procured, 
and their wishes for the conveniences of 
civilized life had ceased, when it was found 
that they could not be gratified. In short, 
we may say, the Johnson family lived happily 
in their wilderness home. 

Sarah Johnson was about eighteen years 
of age, when she was first brought to our no- 
tice. She was not handsome, but she was 
tolerably " good looking," and possessed a 
stock of good sense, which is somewhat rarer 
than beauty. Old Johnson said she was a 
" likely girl," and her mother thought she 
deserved a good husband. This desert seemed 
to be about to receive its reward. Two or 



I 

the bride's rescue. 165 

three miles from Johnson's cabin, lived an- 
other hunter, named John Blake. Like John- 
son, Blake had long followed hunting for a 
subsistence, had married, and had one child. 
The wife was dead ; but the child had grown 
to manhood, and Samuel Blake was now re- 
garded as quite equal to his father in hunting. 

As Johnson and Blake had been very inti- 
mate friends for a long time, their children 
were frequently thrown into each other's com- 
pany ; and a strong attachment had sprung 
up between them. The fathers looked favor- 
ably upon this perpetuation of their intimacy, 
and it soon became a settled matter that 
Samuel Blake and Sarah Johnson should be 
man and wife. 

Both the old hunters had always kept up 
a friendly intercourse with the neighboring 
Indians, and many of the latter had visited 
the cabins and partaken of their hospitalities. 
Johnson had obtained a great reputation 
among the red men for his skill in hunting. 
His company was sought by the young men 
of the tribe, and always with profit. Samuel 



166 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

Blake was also regarded as a brave and skil- 
ful hunter, and admired by the Indians. 
Among those who frequently visited Johnson's 
cabin, was young Oconostota, son of the chief 
of the neighboring tribe. He was already 
distinguished as a warrior and hunter, and 
his personal appearance was so admirable 
that many an Indian maiden's heart beat 
high with the hope that she might be the 
fortunate one who should share his wigwam. 
But Oconostota' s eyes and thoughts were 
fixed elsewhere. He had seen and conversed 
with Sarah Johnson, and he burned with the 
desire to secure her for his wife. Sarah could 
not help seeing the admiring looks he gave 
her during his frequent visits ; but she did 
not suspect the real state of his feelings; 
probably, because her thoughts found occu- 
pation enough in thinking of Samuel Blake. 
At length, however, the young brave ventured 
to disclose his wishes to old Johnson, during 
a hunting excursion, in which they were en- 
gaged together. The old hunter was sur- 
prised ; but considering that Oconostota 



the bride's rescue. 167 

might easily be irritated and dangerous con- 
sequences ensue, he calmly and deliberately 
made known to him that Sarah had long been 
engaged to Samuel Blake, and that that en- 
gagement could not be broken. 

Love cannot listen to reason. Oconostota 
urged his suit still further, offering, with true 
Indian simplicity, two splendid horses for the 
hunter's daughter. He increased the num- 
ber to ten, but the hunter remained firm, and 
the young brave was forced to give up en- 
treaty. When Johnson reached his cabin, he 
found young Blake and his father there, both 
having been invited by Mrs. Johnson to re- 
main and take supper with them. The veni- 
son was broiling before the coals in the large 
fire-place, the table was neatly spread, and 
every thing had a cheerful appearance. Oco- 
nostota had refused Johnson's invitation to 
spend the evening with him, and returned to 
his village. The hunter thought he would 
have done better to have accepted the invi- 
tation. 

While old Johnson and old Blake talked 



168 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

over the doings of the day, and the adventures, 
of many previous ones, young Blake, Sarah, 
and Mrs. Johnson, talked of matters less 
stirring, but more important to the females — 
cooking, house-keeping, &c. The pewter 
dishes soon received their smoking, savory 
weight, and all seated themselves around the 
table. Johnson then introduced the subject 
which had been troubling his thoughts for 
some time previous. The whole party was 
informed of the proposal of Oconostota, and 
of his rejection by the father on behalf of his 
daughter. The young couple were both sur- 
prised, and Samuel Blake laughed outright. 
The old men looked grave, and Mrs. Johnson 
troubled. They knew the Indian character 
well enough to know that the matter would 
not end there. In fact, serious consequences 
might be expected to result from the refusal. 
Some discussion ensued, when old Blake 
recommended that Samuel and Sarah should 
be married as soon as possible, and then con- 
ciliatory measures might secure the agree- 
ment of Oconostota and his friends to what 



the bride's rescue. 169 

could not be changed. Mr. and Mrs. Johnson 
agreed to this proposition, and the young 
people almost "jumped" at it. Before that 
meal was concluded, the day for the wedding 
was fixed, and it was arranged that the par- 
ties should proceed to a settlement about ten 
miles from the cabin of Johnson, where the 
ceremony would be performed. Then a new 
cabin was to be erected between Blake's and 
Johnson's, spacious enough for Samuel and 
Sarah, and old Blake. 

Meanwhile, Oconostota deeply felt the 
sting of rejected love. He strove to conquer 
his feelings, and thought of taking an Indian 
wife. But his nature was too passionate, and 
he resolved to gain the object of his love, 
either by fair means or foul. He visited the 
Johnsons several times afterwards, and was 
informed that the wedding day had been ap- 
pointed ; and nothing remained for him but 
to acquiesce, or strive to get possession of 
Sarah by force or stratagem. His plan was 
soon laid. 

Ascertaining the particular day upon which 

15 



170 STOKIES OP THE INDIANS. 

the wedding was to take place, the young 
chief resolved to get the aid of a few young 
men of his tribe, and carry off the bride the 
night before it. The day approached and the 
happy couple were all joyful expectation. 
They believed that the wishes of long years 
were about to be gratified. Samuel Blake 
spent the day before the happy one, at John- 
son's cabin, arranging with Sarah things that 
had been arranged very frequently before ; 
and he did not leave it until the shades of 
evening were thickening around. Old Blake 
intended to remain all night with Johnson, 
to be ready for the journey of the morrow. 
Sarah accompanied Samuel to a considerable 
distance from the cabin, and he reluctantly 
bade her adieu. She then turned to pursue 
her way home. 

Oconostota, with his friends had been lurk- 
ing around the neighborhood during the after- 
noon. He had seen the lovers leave the cabin 
together, and he followed them at a short 
distance, like a beast of prey, watching his 
opportunity. When he saw Samuel Blake 



THE BRIDE'S RESCUE. 171 

leave Sarah, lie gave a signal, resembling the 
voice of a well-known forest-bird, and col- 
lected his accomplices. He then stole silently 
to the edge of the wood near which he knew 
Sarah must pass, and waited for her. The 
young girl came on trippingly, as if she had 
no care in the world. Suddenly, she was 
seized, and before she could shriek, hurried 
into the wood. She saw the forms of the red 
men, and guessed their object. She shrieked 
for help, as they hurried her swiftly through 
the wood ; but there appeared no help near. 
On they went, until they reached the end of the 
wood, where the prairie opened before them. 
Horses were waiting. The red men mounted, 
Oconostota placing the almost fainting form 
of Sarah upon the horse, before him. Away 
they went like the wind. It was a moonlight 
evening, and as Oconostota turned to see if 
any one was pursuing, he caught sight of a 
blaze, rising above the dark trees, and 
knew at once that one of his men, more 
devilish than the rest, had contrived to set 
fire to Johnson's cabin. He thought he 



1 72 STOEIES OF THE INDIANS. 

heard the sound of other horses' feet far be- 
hind ; but could not distinguish any one in 
the hasty glance he cast behind him. The 
sounds increased, and seemed to grow nearer. 
Then Oconostota turned and saw the forms 
of three mounted men urging their horses to 
the greatest speed. 

At this critical moment, the young chief's 
horse stumbled and fell, Oconostota, with 
Sarah in his arms, leaping to the ground just 
in time to save himself from being crushed. 
This checked the progress of the whole party, 
and ere Oconostota could resume his seat, he 
saw the pursuers were close upon his party. 
It was in vain to think of escape by flight. 
The Indians were six in number, and the 
pursuers were but three. The chances were 
in Oconostota' s favor. But the pursuers all 
had rifles, while two of the Indians had only 
bows and arrows. 

On came the hunters, and a volley was ex- 
changed. Two of the Indians fell from their 
horses, and it was evident that a third was 
seriously, if not fatally wounded. Samuel 



the bride's rescue. 173 

Blake received an arrow in his left arm, but 
it did not disable him. Old Johnson and 
Blake reloaded, and delivered their fire with 
an unerring aim. Then they rushed upon 
them with their rifles, clubbed and laid about 
them with tremendous effect. Oconostota, 
leaving Sarah upon the horse which he had 
ridden, and mounted that of one of his fallen 
friends. Young Blake soon distinguished 
his form and fired his rifle as he rushed upon 
him. The shot broke the arm of the young 
chief, but he gallantly drew his knife and 
closed with his antagonist. A desperate 
struggle ensued. The young men fell to the 
ground almost beneath the horses' feet, and 
rolled over and over like wild cats in a death 
struggle. At length Blake obtained the knife, 
and plunged it into the breast of his foe. 
Then he arose to look around for his friends. 
But one of the Indians had escaped by flight ; 
the rest were all dead. Johnson was unhurt, 
and standing beside his daughter's horse. 
Old Blake was wounded in the shoulder, and 
leaning against his horse. 

15* 



174 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

No time was to be lost. The Indian who 
had escaped would inform his people of the 
death of Oconostota, and a war-party might 
be expected to set out in pursuit of them. 
Samuel Blake first ascertained that Sarah 
was unhurt, then helped his father to mount 
his horse, and then mounted himself. John- 
son placed his daughter upon his horse, and 
the party dashed off on their return. After 
a hard ride, they reached the edge of the 
wood, dismounted and hurried through it with 
almost the speed that the Indians had used 
in carrying off the bride. Their course was 
directed towards Blake's cabin, where they 
intended to join Mrs. Johnson, and at once 
set off for the settlement. They passed near 
Johnson's cabin, and saw that it was almost 
reduced to ashes. They arrived at Blake's 
cabin, and there found Mrs. Johnson, who 
was filled with anxiety for the fate of her 
child. Congratulations and tears of joy fol- 
lowed the meeting. But there was little time 
for indulging in these. 

Things were soon arranged for starting for 



THE BRIDE'S RESCUE. 175 

the settlement, though most of the party were 
suffering severely from fatigue. They started. 
We need not detail the trials and dangers of 
that journey. They were terrible, but borne 
with patience and fortitude. The whole party 
reached the settlement just after daylight, 
were kindly received by the inhabitants, and 
their wants supplied. Old Blake's wound in 
the shoulder was not dangerous, and with the 
careful attention of his friends, he soon re- 
covered. His son suffered much from the 
wound in his arm, which was too long ne- 
glected. Samuel and Sarah were married as 
soon as they could find it convenient to seek 
the minister of the village. 

The Indians were for a short time much 
exasperated at the death of their young 
prince and his friends ; but his father was a 
wise and noble man. He told his warriors 
that Oconostota had merited death by his 
treacherous conduct; and that they would 
have acted in the same manner as the white 
hunters did, had any of their children been 
stolen from them. He sent a messenger to 



176 STORIES OP THE INDIANS. 

Johnson, professing the continuance of his. 
friendship, and inviting him and his friends 
to return to their homes, where he would 
ensure their protection. After some delay, 
they complied with the wishes of the generous 
chief, and returned to their cabins in the wil- 
derness. Johnson's old cabin was re-built; 
Blake removed to a clearing nearer Johnson's, 
and occupied by Sarah and her husband. 

It remains to be explained how the hunters 
received timely notice of the abduction of 
Sarah. "When Samuel Blake left her to pur- 
sue his route homeward, he walked rather 
slowly, busy thinking of his happy future. 
Suddenly it occurred to him, that there was 
one little matter he had forgotten to mention 
to Sarah, and he returned swiftly with the 
hope of overtaking her before she reached her 
house. A shriek broke on his ear before he 
had proceeded far, and with strange convic- 
tion, he knew it came from Sarah. He hur- 
ried swiftly onward, reached the cabin, and 
inquired for Sarah. She was not there. The 
mother guessed the startling truth ; because 



THE BRIDE'S RESCUE. 177 

she thought she had seen the Indians lurking 
near the cabin during the day. Old Johnson, 
Blake, and Samuel grasped a rifle each ; Mrs. 
Johnson was directed to take her two bold 
and faithful dogs, and an extra gun, and pro- 
ceed towards Blake's cabin, where she would 
be safer than in her own ; and then the hun- 
ters hurried out, secured the horses which 
had been caught upon the prairie and kept 
in a small stable near the cabin, and pro- 
ceeded through the wood towards the Indian 
village. They reached the prairie, caught 
sight of the flying Indians, and after a hard 
ride and fight, rescued the bride as before 
described. 

The cabin was not set on fire until some 
time after the hunters had left it. Mrs. John- 
son possessed a bold and masculine spirit, 
and she ventured upon her dangerous journey 
without fear. She met with no obstruction 
and reached Blake's cabin a considerable 
time before the return of the pursuing party. 
Oconostota's death was regretted by the young 
men of his tribe, but his father effectually 



178 



STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 



screened the white men from their vengeance,; 
and lived in peace with them until his death. 
The young couple lived happily together in 
their forest home. Samuel Blake continued 
to hunt for a livelihood, and his rewards were 
sufficient to bring plenty and content to his 
household. He often visited the village of 
the tribe to which Oconostota belonged, and 
by favors and presents soon won the esteem 
and regard of the red men ; they being fully 
convinced that the young chief was justly 
punished for a wilful wrong. 





P 

PS 

Ph 

l— l 

n 

o 

P3 

o 

H 
O 

H 
O 

PS 
Ph 

O 

3 

o 

o 



Q 

o 




YONDEEGA'S GBATXTUBE, 



HE inhabitants of 
the settlement of 
. Cocheeco, in New 
Hampshire, lived for a 
few years in large block- 
houses, well adapted for 
the purpose of defence against 
the Indians. But a few of 
the^ bolder spirits, encouraged by the long 
peace with the red men, moved their families 

16 (181) • 




182 STORIES OP THE INDIANS. 

into log houses of 'their own construction. 
The furthest of the huts from the garrison 
was built by a Mr. Bray, an Englishman. On 
one occasion, Mr. Bray and his wife left home, 
leaving Eebecca, their only child, in charge 
of her Aunt Mary. 

Little Eebecca was, of course, the pet of 
her aunt. When the work of the house had 
been completed, the latter would teach the 
little girl some mysteries of needle work, or 
explain some passages in the Scriptures for 
her benefit. One day, Aunt Mary had just 
finished reading the verse, in the fifth chapter 
of Matthew, which says, "Blessed are the 
merciful, for they shall obtain mercy,'' when 
an Indian burst into the room, and throwing 
himself panting at her feet, exclaimed, in 
broken English, "for mercy's sake, hide me, 
the warriors are on my path." 

Aunt Mary was not disposed to grant his 
request. In common with all the early 
settlers, she hated and feared the Indians. 
But Eebecca earnestly plead for him, saying 
that he would be killed by Major Waldron's 



yondeega's gratitude. 183 

men from the garrison. A loud shout was 
heard in the distance, and the Indian renewed 
his entreaties for a refuge. "Blessed are the 
merciful, for they shall obtain mercy, 77 re- 
peated Rebecca, and Aunt Mary then ex- 
pressed her wish to secrete the Indian from 
his pursuers. The little girl then took the 
reel man by the hand, led him up into the 
loft, made him get into a box containing 
shelled corn, and then spread the corn over 
him in such a manner, that he could not be 
seen. She then descended, and resumed her 
reading to Aunt Mary as if nothing had oc- 
curred. A moment after, the door was burst 
open, and the pursuers entered, exclaiming, 
"Is the villainous redskin here? 77 

The little girl expressed her surprise, and 
asked what redskin. 

" The Indian who has escaped/ 7 answered 
a youth; "we have lost his track; but Mr. 
Gove says he saw the top of his head through 
the wood, and we came here. 77 

Rebecca strove to divert their attention by 
saying she heard a noise, just then, of some- 



184 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

thing running around the house. Mr. Gove 
persisted in saying that he believed the In- 
dian to be in the house, and to satisfy him 
one of the young men proposed that he should 
go up stairs and search for him. Eebecca 
accompanied him. Gove searched every nook 
and corner of the loft, and even lifted up some 
of the corn from the box where the Indian 
was concealed ; but at length gave it up, de- 
scended the stairs and joined his friends. 
The pursuers then sought their victim else- 
where. 

That night, Eebecca brought the red man 
from his hiding-place, and making him pro- 
mise to spare the mothers and babes who 
might fall into his power, let him go, with a 
heart filled with gratitude. 

In explanation of the Indian's situation, 
we may say that the colonial , government, 
fearful of another outbreak among the In- 
dians, and jealous of their numbers, had or- 
dered Major "Waldron, the commander of the 
post, to put the strange red men, who came 
there, to death, and by a stratagem, the 



YONDEEGA^S GRATITUDE. 185 

Major had succeeded in killing all but this 
one, who was preserved by the efforts of little 
Rebecca. 

Time flew by, and Rebecca grew to be a 
fine specimen of feminine maturity. Her 
parents died, and she was left to the guar- 
dianship of Major Waldron. She resided 
with Aunt Mary, to whose care she had been 
confided by a mother's dying breath ; and 
though the major had made many efforts to 
convince them that the garrison was a much 
safer place, they still kept the old house. The 
flower in the wilderness did not "waste its 
sweetness on the desert air." On the con- 
trary, Rebecca's charms had already made 
several captives, one of whom was the only 
son of Major "Waldron. 

George Waldron had been educated in En- 
gland, had moved in refined circles, travelled 
three years, and returned to America, with 
personal advantages which might have made 
many a conquest in the field of love. He 
saw Rebecca soon after his arrival, and was 
immediately " smitten to the heart." But 

16* 



186 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

the beauty could only give him a sister's love ; 
for her heart was in possession of another. 
Morris Green had been her playmate in child- 
hood, and in riper years, her confidant and 
friend. They had not been formally plighted, 
but they felt that they were united by stronger 
bonds than words. A few clays after Wal- 
dron's arrival, Morris saved him from the 
gripe of a bear, that was about to spring 
upon him, by shooting the animal, and from 
that time the two young men became warm, 
self-denying friends. A few weeks after the 
adventure with the bear, George Waldron 
obtained for Morris Green, a midshipman's 
warrant for his Majesty's frigate Cyclops, 
then lying at Portsmouth, with orders to join 
the squadron in the West Indies. 

Morris quickly and joyfully informed Ee- 
becca of his good fortune, and prepared to 
start for Portsmouth. Hand-in-hand he and 
Eebecca visited the grave-yard, where slept 
the remains of her loved parents. There they 
exchanged vows of constancy, and parted 
sadly, though hopefully. Rebecca watched 



yondeega's gratitude. 18/ 

the retreating form of her lover until it was 
lost in the forest, and then, as she sank upon 
her mother's grave, her tears flowed freely, 

A voice near Eebecca, exclaimed, " A pretty 
scene, upon my word!" She sprang to her 
feet and faced the intruder. A mixture of 
scorn and fear was upon her features, and she 
at length turned to fly. But the bold intruder 
seized her hand, and said, "Now my pretty 
bird, this meeting is too opportune to part so 
soon. "What with your own shyness, the 
constant watch of that old hypocrite, "Waidron, 
who means to coax or force you to marry the 
sapient George, and the close attentions of 
that very sentimental youth who has just 
left you, I have not the smallest chance of 
urging my own suit. 77 

" Oh, that can never, never be, 77 answered 
Eebecca, hardly conscious of what she said, 
"for I already love another. 77 

" Hear me, Eebecca, 77 said the other, " your 
beauty would become a higher sphere than 
that stripling can give you to move in. At 
the death of my father, I shall become Lord 



188 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

Marsden ; and at the death of my uncle, who 
is much his senior, his title of Marquis of 
Winchelsea will also revert to me. Think 
how different would be your position as Mar- 
chioness of Winchelsea, surrounded with 
wealth and splendor, than as the wife of that 
poor boy." 

"I have promised to become the wife of 
another," replied Kebecca, " and I would not 
break the promise, if I could. I can love you 
as a sister, but never as your wife !" 

"It is enough, Kebecca," said the young 
man, "you reject the love of a man whom 
you could have moulded to your will. But I 
am not to be slighted with impunity. Tou 
are in my power, and shall rue the hour when 
you dared to scorn me." As he uttered these 
words, he sprang towards her, but stumbled 
over the head-stone of her mother's grave and 
fell headlong ; while Eebecca, pale with terror, 
fled, and never paused until safe within the 
cottage. 

Edward Sinclair, the intruder upon Ke- 
becca' s privacy, had been residing at Wal- 



yondeega's gratitude. 189 

dron's about a year ; consigned to the Major's 
care, it was whispered, by his father, as a 
sort of penance for certain conduct which 
was unbecoming the future Lord of Marsden 
Hall. Well-informed, frank, and jovial, he 
soon rendered himself a favorite with all those 
in the settlement, who considered eccentricity 
natural to a jovial companion, and did not 
question the justice of his acts. Being fond 
of hunting, Sinclair soon made friends of the 
Indians, with whom he would hunt for weeks 
at a time. They called him Neddo. That 
Sinclair was in love with Eebecca, the reader 
may gather from his language towards her. 
But there was ever a something evil in his 
nature which made her shun his presence. 

A few days after Morris's departure, when 
Eebecca thought him "far o'er the briny 
deep," she was surprised to see him enter the 
cottage, covered with dust, and throw himself 
upon a chair. She and Aunt Mary expressed 
their surprise, and asked why he was not in 
the frigate. In reply, he handed Eebecca a 
letter, which, he said, would explain the 



190 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

matter better than he could. The letter was 
read as follows : 

" If Morris Green really feels but half the 
love he professes for Eebecca Bray, he will 
not, by leaving the country, expose her to the 
schemes of a crafty villain. The writer of 
this has heard from Waldron's own lips that 
he only assisted to get rid of him, and that 
before the frigate will have joined the squad- 
ron, she will either by persuasion or force, be 
made the w T ife of George "Waldron. If you 
are wise, you will act upon this warning of 

"A Secret Friend.' 7 

" At first/ 7 said Morris, "I thought this all 
a hoax ; but soon began to regard it as a 
timely and truthful warning. I was down 
at the shoals last week, and I knew T that the 
ship would pass near the islands, that a good 
swimmer could easily reach the shore, where 
there were two or three fishing schooners 
anchored, which could bring me back. In 
the middle of the night, I slipped through a 
port, and swam ashore. As the ship sailed 



yondeega's gkatitude. 191 

like a race horse, they will get so far before 
they miss me, they will not turn back for a 
single man. "Morris said much more to silence 
the fears of his anxious friends, who at length 
set about preparing food for the half-famished 
runaway, when the door opened, and Edward 
Sinclair rushed in, crying, 

"Kun, Morris, run! the bloodhounds are 
at your heels." Morris sprang to his feet, 
and rushed to the back door, which opened 
on the forest ; but Sinclair pushed him back, 
and in a few moments a party of men entered, 
arrested Morris, as a deserter, and bore him 
off, leaving Aunt Mary and Eebecca wringing 
their hands, and crying bitterly. As soon as 
they had left the house, Eebecca fell on the 
floor in a fainting fit. When she recovered, 
Sinclair was bending over her, with com- 
passion and respect upon his features. 

Sinclair explained that he had tried to put 
the pursuing party upon a false scent, and 
save Morris ; that the deserter would be con- 
demned by a court-martial ; yet in conside- 
ration of the motive, they would certainly re- 



192 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

commend him to the mercy of his majesty; 
in which case he would appeal to his father, 
whose influence he represented as all power- 
ful at court, and a pardon could easily be pro- 
cured. Eebecca grasped eagerly at such a 
hope, and began to look upon the one who 
held it forth as a brother. 

The court-martial was held in Boston har- 
bor ; the proof of desertion was positive, and 
Morris was sentenced to death, without a hint 
being given of any appeal to royal mercy. 
Rebecca received the terrible news, as the 
lily receives the blast of the tempest — it al- 
most crushed her spirit. She did not — could 
not weep until the morning of the day that 
was to give her lover to the arms of death. 
Her feelings then found vent in tears. She 
left the cottage, and walked quickly towards 
the house of Major Waldron, where she found 
the old man writing. Throwing herself be- 
fore him, she clasped his knees, and implored 
him to save Morris Green. Waldron answered 
that he could not. Morris had had a fair 
trial, and it would be unjust in him, suppos- 



yondeega's gratitude, 193 

ing he could, to change the verdict. Rebecca 
continued — 

"You can if you will. I know you have 
wished me to many George instead of Morris 
Green ; and now I will promise, that if you 
will procure a pardon for Morris, the day he 
is free from prison I will marry George." 

This chimed in with "Waldron's schemes. 
It had long been his aim to bring about a 
union between his son George and Eebecca. 
He snatched eagerly the opportunity, and 
said he would try what he could do. A mes- 
senger was sent in all haste to Portsmouth, 
and the officers composing the court-martial 
were eagerly persuaded to reprieve the pri- 
soner until a petition could be sent to the 
king, But months were to pass before an 
answer would be received, during which Mor- 
ris must remain in prison, leaving the field 
clear to his rivals, 

Sinclair now spent much of his time with 
Rebecca, who regarded him with the most 
friendly feelings, except when he urged his 
suit, when a revulsion of feeling made her 

17 



194 STOKIES OF THE INDIANS. 

suspect that self-interest was at the root of 
all his vaunted service for her and Morris. 
As for George Waldron, his feelings were in 
a state of confusion not to be described. He 
loved Rebecca, deeply — devotedly; and to 
secure her happiness and that of his friend 
Morris, he felt that no sacrifice could be too 
great. Tet he hoped to make Rebecca his 
wife, and could not resolve to break the en- 
gagement his father had made. 

At length a vessel arrived, bearing a full 
pardon for the deserter ; and Major Waldron 
now required of Rebecca the performance of 
her part of the contract. It was agreed that 
the marriage should not take place until the 
day after Morris's return. Morris had been 
aware that a petition had been sent to the 
king on his behalf, but he knew nothing of 
the terms until the morning of his release, 
and then he felt that he would much rather 
have died than consented to live upon such 
terms. However, he resolved to see Rebecca 
once more, and then leave the country for ever. 

He reached the cottage, where he expected 



yondeega's gratitude, 195 

to meet Rebecca, but found it deserted, and 
in the utmost confusion. Surprised, he 
turned from the cottage to seek an explana- 
tion, when a footstep caused him to raise his 
head, and he stood face to face with George 
Waldron. They each grasped the other's 
hand ; for friendship was still strong in both. 

"I have been very wrong and wicked/ 7 
said George Waldron, "but I have suffered 
for it. Yesterday, after a long struggle, I 
resolved to release Rebecca from an engage- 
ment, into which I knew she had been forced. 
I did so. But now she is gone. Last night 
Aunt Mary awoke and found herself alone ; 
she gave the alarm, and people have hunted 
for her ever since. I fear she has been car- 
ried off by the Indians. 7 ' 

Morris was almost stunned by this unlooked 
for calamity. At length he grasped the hand 
of his friend and said, "We are friends — 
brothers ; together w^e will go and rescue her 
or share her fate." A slight noise at this in- 
stant caused them to turn, and standing near 
them, his arms folded on his breast, his keen 



196 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

eye fixed upon them, was an Indian, whom 
they recognised as one who was often about 
the settlement. 

"Has the pale-face's council fire gone 
out, or are their braves turned squaws, that 
the foe enters the wigwam and steals their 
"WildEose," and no warriors start on the 
trail?" 

" Do you know any thing of Eebecca Bray," 
demanded Morris. 

" Yondeega's eyes were open. Neddo's trail 
and the Wild Eose's trail were one. 

George started. He knew that Edward 
Sinclair had two days previous, joined a hunt- 
ing party ; but he supposed that he had gone 
away to avoid being present at Eebecca's 
nuptials. "The false-hearted villain!" said 
he, "I will follow him, and he shall yet feel 
the weight of my arm." 

"No, no," said Tondeega, with a flashing 
eye and knotted brow. "No pale-face touch 
him. Yondeega's tomahawk is sharp, and 
his rifle never fails it aim. Yondeega will 
kill him like a dog." The features of the In- 



YONDEEGA 7 S GRATITUDE. 197 

dian then assumed an expression of sorrow. 
" Yondeega had a daughter ; she was fair as 
the spring flowers, and cheerful as the song 
of birds. The Tengese came and spake with 
his forked tongue, the maiden listened, and 
her heart changed. She has left the wigwam 
of her tribe to follow the stranger." 

From this the young men gathered that 
Sinclair had been as false to his red as to his 
white friends, and having signified to the In- 
dian that they would follow where he led, they 
set off in pursuit of the lost flower. 

Eebecca had risen early, and was taking a 
short walk near the cottage, when she was 
seized and borne off by some Indians. They 
marched about eight hours, bearing Eebecca 
on a rude litter, until they came to a large 
sheet of water called Lake Winnipiseogee, 
where they embarked in a canoe and rowed 
to an island, on which stood two or three de- 
serted Indian huts. In one of these, Eebecca 
was left, with two Indians. In a moment, 
the door opened, and Edward Sinclair, stripped 
of his Indian disguise, stood before her. He 

17* 



198 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

confessed that he had stolen her. But it was 
because he could not live without her, and he 
wanted to take her to Europe with him. In 
vain the young girl entreated, plead her at- 
tachment to another, and her want of affec- 
tion for Sinclair. 

" And do you think," said he fiercely, " that 
I could bear to see you the wife of Morris 
Green ? It was I who advised him to desert, 
and who attempted to prevent him from 
getting a pardon. But I will be revenged 
yet. In the meantime, you are in my power, 
and from this place you shall never go, except 
as my wife — " 

The sound of light footsteps interrupted 
his words, and the next instant a young In- 
dian girl, breathless with haste, rushed into 
the hut, exclaiming, " Fly, fly ! the pale-faces 
are in pursuit." Sinclair sprang forward, 
as if meditating flight ; but a moment's pause 
seemed to alter his intention, and he said, 
pointing to Eebecca, "Hide her, Tarro, and I 
will meet them here." 

The young Indian frowned, as she replied, 



yoxdeega's gratitude. 199 

"Tarro no hide her; pale-face no hurt her." 
A deep-breathed curse escaped the young 
man, and a fierce glance shot from his eye; 
but the next moment it yielded to a mild, 
tender expression, as he spoke a few words 
to Tarro in her own tongue. 

Tarro smilingly listened to his false words, 
which were, in fact, no less than a promise, 
that if she would hide Eebecca, he would 
marry her, join the tribe and become a great 
chief. She instantly advanced towards the 
white maiden, and in spite of her struggles, 
bandaged her mouth, and drew her into a 
covert close to the hut. Sinclair saw all this, 
and then taking his rifle, he advanced to meet 
Morris and George, who had just emerged 
from the forest into the clearing in front of 
the hut. "What is the matter, George?" he 
asked. 

" Edward/ demanded George, sternly, "do 
you know any thing of Eebecca Bray? 77 

"How can I know any thing of her?" 
mildly replied Sinclair ; " you know I started 



200 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

off to hunt the day before you were to be 
married; but — " 

The speaker paused ; the bullet of Yondee- 
ga, who, having tarried behind to secure the 
canoe, had just caught sight of his foe, had 
started on its fatal errand ; but it did not 
not reach its destined victim. Yarro, who 
saw all that had passed, gave a slight scream, 
and throwing her arms around the neck of 
her beloved, shielded him from danger by re- 
ceiving the ball herself. They laid her upon 
the grass. Sinclair bent over her, grief and 
remorse painted on his features, while the 
rest of the party, including Rebecca, who had 
contrived to unbandage herself, stood looking 
on in mournful silence. Yarro opened her 
eyes, a smile of joy stole over her features, as 
she met the gaze of Sinclair, and she mur- 
mured — "Yarro very happy, for the Great 
Spirit has smiled on her;" and with that 
happy smile still lingering on her features, 
the poor girl passed to the " spirit land." 

A moment of silence ensued, and the next, 
Sinclair sprang to his feet, and darted into 



yondeega' s gratitude. 201 

the forest, pursued by Yondeega, who soon, 
however, returned, completely baffled. This 
was the last that was seen of Edward Sin- 
clair in this country ; although a rumor came 
two years afterwards, that he had fallen in a 
duel, in England, with an officer as reckless 
as himself. 

Tarro was buried on the island, and then 
the party returned to the settlement. The 
remainder of the story is soon told. Major 
Waldron yielded to the entreaties of Ee- 
becca and Morris, assisted by the virtuous 
energy of George, and consented to a union 
of the lovers, who amid all trials, had re- 
mained true to each other. At the wedding, 
among the number of pale and reel faces that 
of Yondeega was recognised, and many thanks 
were returned to him for his generous conduct. 

" Pale-face no need feel grateful. Wild Rose 
hide Yondeega ; Yondeega save Wild Eose; 
that all," said the Indian. In answer to 
eager questioning, he then informed them, 
that he had known of Neddo's designs in re- 
gard to Eebecca, and as soon as he saw her 



202 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

upon the island, he recognised her as the little 
girl who had saved his life, and resolved to 
save her. He hurried to inform her friends, 
and the result is known. When he had fini- 
shed his story, Kebecca exclaimed, 

"I then found mercy by the very person to 
whom I had shown mercy." 





THE BURNING OF DEEKFIELD. 



HE destruction of Deerfield, 
Massachusetts, during the 
French and Indian war, which 
began in 1689, was one of the 
most daring exploits performed 
by the Indians during that exterminating 
struggle. In 1703, the plan was laid by the 

18 (205) 




206 STOKIES OP THE INDIANS. 

French and their savage allies, to cut off 
frontier inhabitants of New England, from 
one extremity to the other; but the des gn 
was not fully executed. Though the eas- 
settlements from Casco to "Wells were 
stroyed, yet the western ones remained un- 
molested. This lulled them into a fatal se- 
curity. Colonel Schuyler, the noted English 
agent among the Indians, received intelli- 
gence of a design in Canada to fall upon Deer- 
field, he immediately informed the inhabi- 
tants of that settlement, that they might pre- 
pare for an attack. The design was not car- 
ried into execution during the summer, and 
the intelligence was considered as a false 
alarm. But their destruction was resei eci 
for the winter of 1704, when they least ex- 
pected it. 

Deerfield was at that time the most 
therly settlement on the Connecticut river, a 
few families at Korthfield excepted. Again 
this place, M. Yaudrieul, governor of Carir 
sent out a party of about three hun 
French and Indians. They were put m i 



BURNING OF DEERFIELD. 207 

the command of Hertel de Boueville, assisted 
by his four brothers, all of whom had been 
trained in partisan warfare by their 
father, who had been a famous partisan in 
former wars. They marched by way of Lake 
Champlain, till they came to the stream, now 
called Onion river. Advancing up that stream 
till they passed over Connecticut river, and 
travelled on the ice till they came near to 
D rfield. 

The Eev. John Williams, the minister of 
Deerfield, was apprehensive of danger, and 

[ npted to impress the minds of the people 
with a sense of it ; but did not succeed. Upon 
his application, the government of the pro- 
3e sent twenty soldiers to aid in the de- 
fence of the town. The fortifications were 
some slight works thrown around two or three 
garrison houses. These were nearly covered 
in some places with drifts of snow. 

On the 29th of February, Eoueville and his 
party approached the town. Hovering near 
it, lie sent out spies to gain intelligence. The 
watch kept the streets of the town till about 



208 STOKIES OP THE INDIANS. 

two hours before day, and then, unfortunately, 
all of them went to sleep. Eoueville, perceiv- 
ing all to be quiet, marched silently to the 
attack. The snow was so high that they had 
no difficulty in jumping over the walls of the 
fortification ; and they immediately separated 
into small parties so as to appear before each 
house at the same time. 

The place was completely surprised ; and 
the foe was entering the houses before the 
inhabitants suspected their approach. The 
resistance was trifling in most parts of the 
town, but one block-house being able to hold 
out against the enemy. The whole settle- 
ment was in their possession in a short time 
after their arrival. Forty-seven of the inha- 
bitants, some of whom fought bravely, were 
slain, and all the rest captured. For awhile, 
the village was given up to plunder, and then, 
to complete the work, it was set on fire. The 
victors with their captives, hastily retreated 
an hour after sunrise. A small party of the 
English pursued them, and a skirmish en- 
sued, in which a few were lost on both sides. 



BURNING OF DEERFIELD. 209 

But the enemy could not be checked in their 
retreat. 

The distance from Deerfield to Chambly, 
Canada, which was the nearest French settle- 
ment, was about three hundred miles. The 
number of prisoners was one hundred and 
twelve. Among the number was the Kev. 
John Williams. As the Indians entered his 
room, he took down his pistol and presented 
it to the breast of the foremost, but it missed 
fire. They then took hold of him and bound 
him, naked as he was, and thus kept him for 
an hour. In the meantime two of the child- 
ren and a negro woman were killed. Mrs. 
Williams, who was hardly recovered from 
childbed, was, with the rest, marched for Ca- 
nada. The second day, in wading a stream, 
Mrs. Williams fainted and fell, but was 
assisted along a little further when, at the 
foot of a hill, she began to falter, her savage 
master, with one blow of his tomahawk, put 
an end to her miseries. The party was 
twenty-five days on its march from Deerfield 
to Chambly. As they depended upon hunt- 

18* 



210 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

ing for their support, the prisoners often suf- 
fered for want of food ; and the severity of the 
season added to their trials. At length they 
reached Chambly, where they were humanely 
treated by the French and their governor, 
Vaudrieul. At different times, most of the 
prisoners were redeemed and returned home. 
Mr. Williams and fifty-seven others arrived at 
Boston, from Quebec, in 1706. One of the 
minister's daughters, Eunice, married an In- 
dian, and became a convert to the Catholic 
religion, which she never would consent to 
forsake. She frequently visited her friends 
in New England ; but uniformly persisted in 
wearing the blanket, and counting her beads. 
Deerfield was rebuilt soon after its destruction, 
and became a flourishing settlement. 





THE FIRE WATER. 




^""- x ^^^S^^^^^s 



THE FIBE-WATEB. 



F the red men have been be- 
IBf MIL nefited by their intercourse 
^?BII with the whites, they have 
also red much degrada- 
tion from the same cause. 
Created with strong and active physical 
powers, united with keen sensibility, they 

(213) 




214 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

have an innate love of excitement, of which 
the white man has taken advantage to work 
their ruin. For a few bottles of any kind of 
ardent spirits, which the Indians term " fire- 
water," keen traders have purchased the pro- 
duce of weeks of hunting and toil, and even 
the land which contains within its bosom the 
bones of the red man's ancestors. How many 
of these noble children of the woods, whose 
native powers of intellect rivalled those of 
the most distinguished orators, statesmen, 
and warriors, among the civilized nations, 
have become degraded in mind and weakened 
in body through the influence of the evil 
spirit sent to them by the avaricious and wiser 
white men ! See Logan, whose qualities of 
mind, and whose misfortunes have excited so 
much admiration and sympathy, spending 
the evening of his days in beastly intoxica- 
tion! See the mighty Sagona, more widely 
known as Ked Jacket, who may be considered 
as the Demosthenes of his race ; whose judg- 
ment and foresight guided his nation in many 
an intricate negotiation, and whose eloquence 



dkkskJ 




PONTIAC. 



THE FIRE-WATER. 217 

has been compared to the Niagara, near 
whose thundering tumult he was reared, 
weakened in body and mind by the "fire- 
water" given him by those who feared his in- 
fluence ! This bane of the red man has ever 
been extended to him by the hand of civiliza- 
tion; and those tribes which inhabit the 
country nearest the citizens of the western 
states are fast melting away under its blight- 
ing breath. Occasionally a chief has arisen 
Who despised the "fire-water," and who in- 
dignantly denounced those who introduced it 
among his people. Of one of these we are 
about to speak. 

Pontiac was a chief of the Ottawas, a tribe 
which inhabited the neighborhood of Lake 
Erie, in the territory now included in the 
state of Michigan. But at one time, he was the 
chief of a confederacy, consisting of the Ot- 
tawas, Miamis, Chippewas, Wyandottes, Fot- 
towatomies, Missisagas, Shawanese, Ottaga- 
mies, and Winnebagoes — all powerful tribes. 
Pontiac was gifted with a great and noble 
spirit which fitted him for command. He 

19 



218 STORIES OP THE INDIANS. 

possessed a daring courage, tempered and 
guided by wisdom and judgment. Fertile in 
the invention of means to gain an end, he 
was generally successful in his undertakings, 
and became a formidable enemy to the whites, 
whose encroachments roused his hatred. 

In the Indian war, which broke out in 1763, 
which is justly denominated " Pontiac's War," 
the great chief appointed a commissary, and 
began to make and issue bills of credit, all 
of which he carefully redeemed. He made 
his bills or notes of bark, on which was drawn 
the figure of the commodity he wanted for it 
The shape of an otter was drawn under that 
of the article wanted, and an otter was the 
insignia of his nation. He had also, with 
great sagacity, urged upon his people the ne- 
cessity of dispensing entirely with European 
commodities, of having no intercourse with the 
whites, and of depending entirely upon their 
ancient modes of procuring sustenance. 

Some English traders, with a considerable 
quantity of brandy in bottles, were detected 
among the Indians, bartering "fire-water" 



THE FIRE-WATER. 219 

for skins, and, by order of Pontiac, brought 
into his presence. The noble chief stood in 
state, gaudily dressed, and with a lofty raein, 
in front of his highly decorated wigwam. A 
guard of warriors were upon each side of him, 
and subordinate chiefs waited the command 
of the mighty forest king. The traders were 
bold men, but they trembled when led into 
his presence. They knew his power, the 
ferocity of the men whom he ruled, and the 
criminal nature of the business in which they 
were engaged. 

Pontiac spoke the English tongue suffi- 
ciently well to make himself understood, and 
he asked the traders if they were not aware 
that he had forbidden his people to have any 
intercourse with the whites, and warned the 
latter to leave his territory. He then alluded 

if 

to the many services he had done the whites, 
and the many acts of hospitality his people 
had performed. " And how have you repaid 
them?" continued he. "They gave you 
shelter and venison, and you gave them poi- 
son — fire-water, to burn away their strength, 



220 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

and blind their eyes, so that you could cheat 
them out of their skins and furs, and perhaps 
their land." 

The white traders attempted to excuse 
themselves, by saying that they had only 
given the Indians the liquor at their own 
earnest entreaty. But Pontiac indignantly 
commanded their silence. "You knew what 
the fire-water could do, what it has done, and 
what it will do ; and yet you gave it to them." 
The chief raised himself to his full height. 
He was a tall and noble-looking man. His 
brow was high and broad, his eye black, keen, 
and lively, and his nose aquiline and promi- 
nent. The compressed mouth expressed the 
firmness of his will. "For your fault," said 
he, "you have deserved a severe punishment, 
and were you at the mercy of many of my 
people, death would quickly be your lot. I 
spare your lives now, and my warriors shall 
conduct you safely out of my country. But 
if you again are found upon this land, expect 
to burn at the stake. Go ! Pontiac has said." 

The white men concealed the joy which they 



THE FIRE-WATER. 221 

felt at their escape from death. They had 
expected nothing less. Pontiac directed some 
of his warriors to accompany the traders and 
then retired to his wigwam. The traders, 
once safely out of his country were very care- 
ful not to revisit it while he lived. A war 
broke out soon after this event, in which Pon- 
tiac displayed the skill and courage of a great 
commander. He was victorious on many oc- 
casions, but was at last forced to conclude a 
peace, by the superior numbers and discipline 
of the whites. His exertions could not pre- 
vent his people from using the "fire-water" 
occasionally ; and consequently, he could not 
prevent their becoming weakened, and so 
blinded to their own interest as to sell the 
land of their forefathers, and aid the encroach- 
ments of the whites. The people whom he 
governed, have either entirely melted away 
before the influence of war and the use of 
ardent spirits, or greatly reduced in numbers, 
have removed far beyond the Mississippi. 

19* 




FARMER'S BROTHER. 




NECDOTES of men who have been 

distinguished for their bravery, 

whether friend or foe, civilized 

or savage, seldom fail to excite 

an interest. 

During the second war with England, the 
Seneca nation of Indians, who resided in the 
neighborhood of Buffalo, were employed by 
(222) 



farmer's brother. 223 

the American government, and attached them- 
selves to the army, then about to enter Ca- 
nada, under the command of General Brown, 
The principal chief of this tribe was "Far- 
mer's Brother" — a stout, athletic warrior. 
The frosts of eighty winters had passed over 
his head ; and yet he retained his faculties in 
an eminent degree. He possessed all the 
ardour of his young associates, and was un- 
commonly animated at the prospect which a 
frest harvest of laurels presented to his mind. 
This celebrated chief, in the war between 
England and France, was engaged in the ser- 
vice of the latter. He once pointed out, to 
the writer of this account, the spot where, 
with a party of Indians, he lay in ambush — 
patiently waiting the approach of a guard 
that accompanied the English teams, employed 
between the Falls of Niagara and the British 
garrison ; the fort had lately surrendered to 
Sir William Johnson. The place selected for 
that purpose is now known by the name of 
the "Devil's Hole," and is three and a half 
miles below the famous cataract, upon the 



224 STOEIES OP THE INDIANS. 

United States side. The mind can scarcely 
conceive a more dismal looking den. A large 
ravine, occasioned by the falling in of the per- 
pendicular bank, made dark by the spreading 
branches cf the birch and cedar, which had 
taken root below, and the low murmurings 
of the rapids in the chasm, added to the so- 
lemn thunder of the cataract itself, conspire 
to render the scene truly awful. The English 
party were not aware of the dreadful fate 
which awaited them. Unconscious of danger, 
the drivers were gaily whistling to their dull 
ox-teams. On their arrival at this spot, Far- 
mer's Brother and his band rushed from the 
thicket that had concealed them, and com- 
menced a horrid butchery. So unexpected 
was the attack, and so completely were 
the English deprived of all presence of 
mind, but a feeble resistance was made. The 
guard, the teamsters, the oxen, and the wagons, 
were precipitated into the gulf. But two of 
them escaped ; a Mr. Steadman, who lived at 
Schlosser, above the falls, being mounted on 
a fleet horse, made good his retreat ; and one 



farmer's brother. 225 

of the soldiers, who was caught on the pro- 
jecting root of a cedar, which sustained him 
until — assured by the distant yells of the 
savages — they had left the grounds. He then 
clambered up, and proceeded to Fort Niagara, 
with the intelligence of this disaster. A small 
rivulet, which pours itself down this precipice, 
was literally colored with the blood- of the 
vanquished — and has ever since borne the 
name of " The Bloody Bun." 

In the war of the Kevolution, Farmer's 
Brother evinced his hostility to the Americans 
upon every occasion that occurred ; and with 
the same zeal, he engaged in the late war 
against his former friends — the British. 

Another anecdote of this chief will show, 
in more glaring colors, the real savage. A 
short time before the United States army 
crossed the Niagara, Farmer's Brother chanced 
to observe an Indian, who had mingled with 
the Senecas, and whom he instantly recog- 
nised, as belonging to the Mohawks — a tribe 
living in Canada, and then employed in the 
enemy's service. He went up to him, and 



226 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

addressed him in the Indian tongue: — "I 
know you well— you belong to the Mohawks — 
you are a spy — here is my rifle— my toma- 
hawk — my scalping knife — I give you your 
choice, which of them shall I use ? — but I am 
in haste !" The young warrior, finding re- 
sistance vain, chose to be despatched with 
the rifle. He was ordered to lie upon the 
grass; while, with the left foot upon the 
breast of his victim, the chief lodged the con- 
tents of the rifle into his head. 

With so much of the savage, Farmer's 
Brother possessed some estimable traits of 
character. He was as firm a friend, where 
he promised fidelity, as a bitter enemy to those 
against whom he contended ; and would rather 
lose the last drop of his blood, than betray 
the cause he had espoused. He was fond of 
recounting his exploits, and, savage-like, 
dwelt with much satisfaction upon the num- 
ber of scalps he had taken in his skirmishes 
with the whites. 

In company with several other chiefs, he 
paid a visit to General Washington, w ho pre- 



farmer's brother. 



227 



sented him with a silver medal. This he 
constantly wore, suspended from his neck ; 
and, so precious was the gift in his eyes, that 
he often declared, he would lose it only with 
his life. Soon after the battles of Chippewa 
and Bridgewater, this veteran paid the debt 
of nature, at the Seneca village ; and, out of 
respect to his bravery, he was interred with 
military honors from the fifth regiment of 
United States infantry. 





THE PROPHET OF THE ALLEGHANY. 

IN the year of 1798, one of the 
^ missionaries to the Indians of 
the north-west was on his way 
from the Tnscarora settlement 
to the Senecas. Journeying in 
pious meditation through the 
forest, a majestic Indian darted 
from its recess, and arrested 
his progress. His hair was somewhat changed 
with age, and his face marked with the deep 




<m 



(228) 



THE PROPHET OF THE ALLEGHANY. 229 

furrows of time ; but his eye expressed all the 
fiery vivacity of youthful passion, and his step 
was that of a warrior in the vigor of manhood. 

" White man of the ocean,* whither wan- 
derest thou? 7 '* said the Indian. 

;< I am travelling," replied the meek dis- 
ciple of peace, "towards the dwellings of thy 
brethren, to teach them the knowledge of the 
only true God, and to lead them to peace and 
happiness. 7 ' 

"To peace and happiness !" exclaimed the 
tall chief, while his eye flashed fire — " Behold 
the blessings that follow the footsteps of the 
wiiite man ! "Wherever he comes, the nations 
of the woodlands fade from the eye, like the 
mists of the morning. Once over the wide 
forest of the surrounding world our people 
roamed in peace and freedom ; nor ever 
dreamed of greater happiness than to hunt 

* The Indians at first imagined that the white men originally 
sprang from the sea, and that they invaded their country because 
they had none of their own. They sometimes called them in their 
songs, « The froth, or white foam of the ocean ;" and this name 
is often applied contemptuously by the savages of the north-west. 

20 



230 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

the beaver, the bear, and the wild deer. From 
the furthest extremity of the great deep came 
the white man, armed with thunder and 
lightning, and weapons still more pernicious. 
In war he hunted us like wild beasts; in 
peace, he destroyed us by deadly liquors, or 
yet more deadly frauds. Yet a few moons 
had passed away, and whole nations of in- 
vincible warriors, and of hunters, that fear- 
less swept the forest and the mountain, perish, 
vainly opposing their triumphant invaders, 
or quietly dwindled into slaves and drunk- 
ards—and their names withered from the 
earth. Retire, dangerous man! Leave us 
all we yet have left — our savage virtues, and 
our gods ; and do not, in the vain attempt to 
cultivate a rude and barren soil, pluck up the 
few thrifty plants of native growth that have 
survived the fostering cares of the people, and 
weathered the stormy career of their perni- 
cious friendship." The tall chief darted into 
the wood, and the good missionary pursued 
his w T ay with pious resolution. 

He preached the only true divinity, and 



THE PROPHET OF THE ALLEGHANY. 231 

placed before the eyes of the wondering 
savages the beauty of holiness, &c. 

rjJ #f» rfS £j» r£» 

The awe-struck Indians, roused by these 
accumulated motives — many of them adopted 
the precepts of the missionary, as far as they 
could comprehend them ; and, in the course 
of eighteen months, their devotion became 
rational, regular, and apparently permanent. 

All at once, however, the little church, in 
which the good man was wont to pen his fold, 
became deserted. JSTo votary came, as usual, 
to listen, with decent reverence, to the pure 
doctrines which they were accustomed to 
hear ; and only a few solitary idlers were seen, 
of a Sunday morning, lounging about, and 
casting a wistful yet fearful look at their little 
peaceful and now silent mansion. 

The missionary sought them out, inquired 
into the cause of this mysterious desertion, 
and told them of the bitterness of hereafter 
to those who, having once known, abandoned 
the religion of the only true God. The poor 
Indians shook their heads, and informed him 



232 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

that the Great Spirit was angry at their 
apostacy, and had sent a Prophet from the 
summit of the Alleghany mountains, to warn 
them against the admission of new doctrines ; 
that there was to be a great meeting of the 
the old men soon, and the Prophet would 
there deliver to the people the message with 
which he was entrusted. The zealous mis- 
sionary determined to be present, and to 
confront the imposter, who was known by the 
appellation of the Prophet of the Alleghany. 
He obtained permission to appear at the 
council, and to reply to the Prophet. The 
12th of June, 1802, was fixed for determining 
whether the belief of their forefathers or that 
of the white men was the true religion. 

The council-house not being large enough 
to contain so great an assemblage of people, 
they met in a valley west of Seneca Lake. 
This valley was then embowered under lofty 
trees. On almost every side it is surrounded 
with high rugged hills, and through it mean- 
ders a small river. 

It was a scene to call forth every energy 



THE PROPHET OF THE ALLEGHANY. 233 

of the human heart. On a smooth level, near 
the bank of a slow stream, under the shade 
of a large elm, sat the chief men of the tribes. 
Around the circle which they formed, was 
gathered a crowd of wondering savages, with 
eager looks, seeming to demand the true God 
at the hands of their wise men. In the middle 
of the circle sat the aged and travel-worn 
missionary. A few gray hairs wandered over 
his brow; his hands were crossed on his 
bosom; and, as he cast his hope-beaming 
eye to heaven, he seemed to be calling with 
pious fervor upon the God of Truth, to vin- 
dicate his own eternal word by the mouth of 
his servant. 

For more than half an hour there was si- 
lence in the valley, save the whispering of 
the trees in the south wind, and the indistinct 
murmuring of the river. Then all at once, a 
sound of astonishment ran through the crowd, 
and the Prophet of the Alleghany was seen 
descending one of the high hills. With furious 
and frenzied step he entered the circle, and, 
waving his hands in token of silence, the mis- 

20* 



234 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

sionary saw, with wonder, the same tall chief, 
who, four years before, had crossed him in the 
Tuscarora forest. The same panther-skin 
hung over his shoulder ; the same tomahawk 
quivered in his hand ; and the same fiery and 
malignant spirit burned in his eye. He ad- 
dressed the awe-struck Indians, and the 
valley rung with his iron-voice. 

"Bed Men of the "Woods ! Hear what the 
Great Spirit says of his children who have 
forsaken him ! 

"Through the wide regions that were once 
the inheritance of my people — and for ages 
they roved as free as the wild winds — resounds 
the axe of the white man. The paths of your 
forefathers are polluted by the their steps, 
and your hunting-grounds are every day 
wrested from you by their arts. Once on the 
shores of the mighty ocean, your fathers were 
wont to enjoy all the luxuriant delights of 
the deep. Now, you are exiles in swamps, 
or on barren hills ; and these wretched pos- 
sessions you enjoy by the precarious tenure 
of the white man's will. The shrill cry of 



THE PROPHET OF THE ALLEGHANY. 235 

revelry or war, no more is heard on the ma- 
jestic shores of the Hudson, or the sweet 
banks of the silver Mohawk. There where 
the Indian lived and died, free as the air he 
breathed, and chased the panther and the 
deer from morning until evening — even there 
the Christian slave cultivates the soil in un- 
disturbed possession ; and as he whistles be- 
hind the plough, turns up the sacred remains 
of your buried ancestors. Have you not 
heard at evening, and sometimes in the dead 
of night, those mournful and melodious sounds 
that steal through the deep valleys, or along 
the mountain sides, like the song of echo ? 
These are the wailings of those spirits whose 
bones have been turned up by the sacrilegious 
labors of the white men, and left to the mercy 
of the rain and the tempest. They call upon 
you to avenge them — they adjure you, by 
motives that rouse the hearts of the brave, to 
wake from your long sleep, and, by returning 
to these invaders of the grave the long ar- 
rears of vengeance, restore again the tired 



236 STORIES OP THE INDIANS. 

and wandering spirits to their blissful paradise 
far beyond the blue hills.* 

"These are the blessings you owe to the 
Christians. They have driven your fathers 
from their ancient inheritance — they have de- 
stroyed them with the sword and poisonous 
liquors — they have dug up their bones, and 
left them to blanch in the wind, and now 
they aim at completing your wrongs, and in- 
suring your destruction, by cheating you into 
the belief of that divinity, whose very precepts 
they plead in justification of all the miseries 
they have heaped upon your race. 

"Hear me, deluded people, for the last 
time ! — If you persist in deserting my altars — 
if still you are determined to listen with fatal 
credulity to the strange pernicious doctrines 
of these Christian usurpers — if you are unal- 
terably devoted to your new gods and new 
customs — if you will be the friend of the 
white man, and the follower of his God — my 

*The answering voices heard from the caves and hollows, 
which the Latins call echo, the Indians suppose to be the wailings 
of souls wandering through these places. 



THE PROPHET OF THE ALLEGHANY. 237 

wrath shall follow. I will dart my arrows of 
forked lightning among your towns, and send 
the warring tempests of winter to devour you. 
Ye shall become bloated with intemperance ; 
your numbers shall dwindle away, until but a 
few wretched slaves survive ; and these shall 
be driven deeper and deeper into the wild — 
there to associate with the dastard beasts of 
the forest, who once fled before the mighty 
hunters of your tribe. The spirits of your 
fathers shall curse you, from the shores of 
that happy island in the great lake, where 
they enjoy an everlasting season of hunting, 
and chase the wild deer with dogs swifter 
than the wind. Lastly, I swear by the light- 
ning, the thunder, and the tempest, that, in 
the space of sixty moons, of all the Senecas, 
not one of yourselves shall remain on the face 
of the earth." 

The Prophet ended his message — which 
was delivered with the wild eloquence of real 
or fancied inspiration, and, all at once, the 
crowd seemed to be agitated with a savase 
sentiment of indignation against the good 



238 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

missionary. One of the fiercest broke through- 
the circle of old men to despatch him, but 
was restrained by their authority. 

When this sudden feeling had somewhat 
subsided, the mild apostle obtained permis- 
sion to speak, in behalf of Him who had sent 
him. Never have I seen a more touching;, 
pathetic figure, than this good man. He 
seemed past sixty ; his figure tall and bend- 
ing, his face mild, pale, and highly intellec- 
tual, and over his forehead, which yet dis- 
played its blue veins, were scattered at soli- 
tary distances, a few gray hairs. Though his 
voice was clear, and his action vigorous, yet 
there was that in his looks, which seemed to 
say his pilgrimage was soon to close forever. 

With pious fervor he discribed to his audi- 
ence the glory, power, and beneficence of the 
Creator of the whole universe. He told them 
of the pui© delights of the Christian heaven, 
and of the never-ending tortures of those who 
rejected the precepts of the Gospel. 

And, when he had concluded this part of 
the subject, he proceeded to place before his 



THE PEOPHET OF THE ALLEGHANY, 239 

now attentive auditors, the advantages of 
civilization, learning, science, and a regular 
system of laws and morality. He contrasted 
the wild Indian, roaming the desert in savage 
independence, now revelling in the blood of 
enemies, and in his turn, the victim of their 
insatiable vengeance, with the peaceful citi- 
zen, enjoying all the comforts of cultivated 
life in this happy land ; and only bounded in 
his indulgences by those salutary restraints, 
which contribute as well to his own happiness 
as to that of society at large. He described 
the husbandman, enjoying, in the bosom of 
his family, a peaceful independence, undis- 
turbed by apprehensions of midnight surprise, 
plunder, and assassination ; and he finished 
by a solemn appeal to heaven, that his sole 
motive for coming among them was the love 
of his Creator and of his creatures. 

As tne benevolent missionary closed bis 
appeal, Eed jacket, a Seneca chief of great 
authority, and the most eloquent of all his 
nation, rose and enforced the exhortations of 
the venerable preacher. He repeated his 



240 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

leading arguments, and — with an eloquence 
truly astonishing in one like him — pleaded 
the cause of religion and humanity. The an- 
cient council then deliberated for the space 
of nearly two hours ; after which the oldest 
man arose, and solemnly pronounced the re- 
sult of their conference — " That the Christian 
God was more wise, more just, more benefi- 
cent and powerful, than the Great Spirit, and 
that the missionary who had delivered his 
precepts, ought to be cherished as their best 
benefactor — their guide to future happiness." 
When this decision w T as pronounced by the 
venerable old man, and acquiesced in by the 
people, the rage of the Prophet of the Alle- 
ghany became terrible. He started from the 
ground, seized his tomahawk, and denounc- 
ing the speedy vengeance of the Great Spirit 
upon their whole recreant race, darted from 
the circle with wild impetuosity, and disap- 
peared in the shadows of the forest. 




PETER OTSAQUETTE. 

ILLUSTRATIVE OF THE FORCE OF EARLY HABIT. 

ETER OTSAQUETTE 

was the son of a 
man of conside- 
ration among the 
Oneida Indians 
of New York At 
the close of the 
I Revolution, he 
was noticed by 
the Marquis de Lafayette, who, to a noble 

21 (241) 




242 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

zeal for liberty, united the most philanthropic 
feelings. Viewing, therefore, this young 
savage with peculiar interest, and anticipat- 
ing the happy results to be derived from his 
moral regeneration, he took him, though 
scarcely twelve years old, to France. Peter 
arrived at that period when Louis XYL and 
Maria Antoinette were in the zenith of their 
glory. There he was taught the accomplish- 
ments of a gentleman ; — music, drawing, and 
fencing, were made familiar to him, and he 
danced with a grace that a Vestris could not 
but admire. At about eighteen, his separa- 
tion from a country in which he had spent 
his time so agreeably and profitably, became 
necessary. Laden with favors from the Mar- 
quis, and the miniatures of those friends he 
had left behind, Peter departed for America- 
inflated, perhaps, with the idea, that the deep 
ignorance of his nation, with that of the In- 
dians of the whole continent, might be dis- 
pelled by his efforts, and he become the proud 
instrument of the civilization of thousands. 
Prosecuting his route to the land of his 



PETER OTSAQUETTE. 243 

parents, lie came to the city of Albany ; not 
the uncivilized savage, not with any of those 
marks which bespoke a birth in the forest, 
or spent in toiling the wilds of a desert, but 
possessing a fine commanding figure, an ex- 
pressive countenance, and intelligent eye, 
with a face scarcely indicative of the race 
from which he was descended. He presented, 
at this period, an interesting spectacle; a 
child of the wilderness was beheld about to 
proceed to the home of his forefathers, having 
received the brilliant advantages of a culti- 
vated mind, and on his way to impart to the 
nation that owned him, the benefits which 
civilization had given him. It was an oppor- 
tunity for the philosopher to contemplate, 
and to reflect on the future good this young 
Indian might be the means of producing. 

Shortly after his arrival in Albany — where 
he visited the first families — he took advan- 
tage of Governor Clinton's journey to Fort 
Stanwix, where a treaty was to be held with 
the Indians, to return to his tribe. On the 
route, Otsaquette amused the company, among 



244 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

whom were the French Minister, Count de 
Moustiers, and several gentlemen of respecta- 
bility, by his powers on various instruments 
of music. At Fort Stanwix, he found him- 
self again with the companions of his early 
days, who saw and recognised him. His 
friends and relations had not forgotten him, 
and he was welcomed to his home and to his 
blanket. 

But that which occurred soon after his re- 
ception, led him to a too fearful anticipation 
of an unsuccessful project; for the Oneidas, 
as if they could not acknowledge Otsaquette, 
attired in the dress with which he appeared 
before them, a mark which did not disclose 
his nation, and, thinking that he had assumed 
it, as if ashamed of his own native costume, 
the garb of his ancestors, they tore it from 
him with a savage avidity, and a fiend-like 
ferociousness, daubed on the paint to which 
he had been so long unused, and clothed him 
with the uncouth habiliments held sacred by 
his tribe. Their fiery ferocity, in the per- 
formance of the act, showed but too well the 



PETER OTSAQUETTE. 245 

bold stand they were about to take against 
the innovations they supposed Gtsaquette 
was to be the agent for affecting against their 
immemorial manners and customs, and which 
from the venerable antiquity of their struc- 
ture, it would be nothing short of sacrilege 
to destroy. 

Thus the reformed savage was taken back 
again to his native barbarity, and, as if to 
cap the climax of degradation to a mind just 
susceptible of its own powers, was married to 
a squaw. 

From that day Otsego was no longer the 
accomplished Indian, from whom every wish 
of philanthrophy was expected to be realized. 
He was no longer the instrument by whose 
power the emancipation of his countrymen 
from the thraldom of ignorance and supersti- 
tion, was to be effected. From that day he 
was an inmate of the forest ; was once more 
buried in his original obscurity, and his na- 
tion only viewed him as an equal. Even a 
liberal grant from the state, failed of securing 
to him that superior consideration among 

21* 



246 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

them which his civilization had procured for 
him with the rest of mankind. The com- 
manding pre-eminence acquired from instruc- 
tion, from which it was expected ambition 
would have sprung up, and acted as a double 
stimulant, from either the natural inferiority 
of the savage mind, or the predetermination 
of his countrymen, became of no effect, and, 
in a little time, was wholly annihilated. Ot- 
saquette was lost. His moral perdition began 
from the hour he left Fort Stanwix. Three 
short months had hardly transpired, when 
intemperance had marked him as her own, 
and soon hurried him to the grave. And, as 
if the very transition had deadened the finer 
feelings of his nature, the picture given him 
by the Marquis — the very portrait of his af- 
fectionate friend and benefactor himself — he 
parted with. 

Extraordinary and unnatural as the con- 
duct of this uneducated savage may appear, 
the anecdote is not of a kind altogether 
unique; which proves, that little or nothing 
is to be expected from conferring a literary 



PETER OTSAQUETTE. 247 

education upon the rude children of the 
forest : An Indian named George White-Eyes, 
was taken, while a boy, to the college at 
Princeton, where he received a classical edu- 
cation. On returning to his nation, he made 
some little stay in Philadelphia, where he 
was introduced to some genteel families. He 
was amiable in his manners, and of modest 
demeanor, without exhibiting any trait of the 
savage whatever ; but, no sooner had he re- 
joined his friends and former companions, in 
the land of his nativity, than he dropped the 
garb and manner of civilization, and resumed 
those of the savage, and drinking deep of the 
intoxicating cup, soon put a period to his 
existence. 

Many other instances might be adduced to 
show how ineffectual have been the attempts 
to plant civilization on savage habits, by 
means of literary education — " Can the leopard 
change his spots ?" 




PEKFIDT PUNISHED. 

N the early part of the 
revolutionary war, a 
sergeant and twelve 
armed men, undertook 
a journey through the 
wilderness of New 
Hampshire. Their si- 
tuation was remote 
from any settlements, and they were under 
(248) 




INDIAN PERFIDY. 249 

the necessity of encamping over night in the 
woods. In the early part of the struggle for 
independence, the Indians were numerous, 
and did not stand idle spectators to a con- 
flict carried on with so much zeal and ardour 
by the whites. Some tribes were friendly to 
our cause, while many upon our borders took 
part with the enemy, and were very trouble- 
some in their savage manner of warfare, — as 
was often learned from the woful experience 
of their midnight depredations. The leader 
of the above mentioned party was well ac- 
quainted with the different tribes, and — from 
much intercourse with them, previous to the 
war— was not ignorant of the idiom, physiog- 
nomy, and dress, of each; and, at the com- 
mencement of hostilities, was informed for 
which party they had raised the hatchet. 

Nothing material happened, the first day 
of their excursion ; but early in the afternoon 
of the second, they from an eminence, dis- 
covered a body of armed Indians advancing 
towards them, whose number rather exceeded 
their own. As soon as the whites were per- 



250 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

ceived by their red brethren, the latter made 
signals, and the two parties approached each 
other in an amicable manner. The Indians 
appeared to be much gratified with meeting 
the sergeant and his men, whom, they ob- 
served, they considered as their protectors ; 
said they belonged to a tribe which had 
raised the hatchet with zeal, in the cause of 
liberty, and were determined to do all in their 
power to injure the common enemy. They 
shook hands in friendship, and it was, " How 
d'ye do, pro V that being their pronunciation 
of the word brother. When they had con- 
versed with each other for some time, and 
exchanged mutual good wishes, they sepa- 
rated, and each party travelled in different 
directions. After proceeding a mile or more, 
the sergeant halted his men, and addressed 
them in the following words : 

"My brave companions! we must use the 
utmost caution, or this night may be our last 
Should we not make some extraordinary ex- 
ertion to defend ourselves, to-morrow's sun 
may find us sleeping, never to wake. You 



PERFIDY PUNISHED. 251 

are surprised, comrades, at roy words, and 
your anxiety will not be lessened, when I 
inform you, that we have just passed our in- 
veterate foe, who, under the mask of pretended 
friendship you have witnessed, would lull us 
into fancied security, and, by such means, in 
the unguarded moments of our midnight 
slumber, without resistance, seal out fate!" 

The men were astonished at this harangue, 
for they supposed the party they had encoun- 
tered were friend s. They resolved for their own 
preservation to adopt the following scheme : 
Their night's encampment was near a stream. 
They felled a large tree, before which a bril- 
liant fire was made, and each individual cut 
a log of wood the size of his body, rolled it into 
his blanket, and placed it before the fire, that 
the enemy might take it for a man. The fire 
was kept burning until near midnight, when 
it was expected an attack would be made. 
Soon a tall Indian was seen through the glim- 
mering fire, cautiously moving towards them. 
His actions showed that he was suspicious of 
a guard being posted to give an alarm ; but 



252 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

finding all quiet, he moved forward, and was 
seen to move his finger as he numbered each 
log, or, what he supposed to be a man asleep. 
To satisfy himself as to the number, he re- 
counted them, and retired. A second Indian 
went through the same movements. 

The whole party, sixteen in number, now 
cautiously advanced, and eagerly eyeing their 
supposed victims. The sergeant's party could 
scarcely be restrained from firing upon them ; 
but the plan was to remain silent until the 
guns of the savages were discharged, so that 
their own might be more effectual. 

Their suspense was short. The Indians ap- 
proached, till within a short distance ; they 
then halted, took deliberate aim, fired upon 
the logs, and rushed forward with scalping 
knife, to take the scalps of the dead. As soon 
as they were collected in a close body, more 
effectually to execute their horrid intentions, 
the party of the sergeant, with unerring aim, 
discharged their muskets upon the savages ; 
not one of whom escaped destruction. 




BUILDING ENCAMPMENT ON BED RIVER. 



S^sSSk-AtiM ^^^M 




ADYEXTUKES OF DAXIEL BOOXE, 

COMPRISING AN ACCOUNT OF THE WARS "WITH THE 

INDIANS OX TEE OHIO. WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. 



T was on the first of 
J1| A May, 1769, that I re- 

signed my domestic hap- 
piness, and left my family 
and peaceful habitation 
on the Yadkin river, in 
Xorth Carolina, to wan- 
der through the wilderness of America, in 

(255; 




256 STORIES OP THE INDIANS. 

quest of the country of Kentucky, in company 
with John Finley, John Stuart, Joseph Holden, 
James Monay, and William Cool. 

On the 7th of June, after travelling in a 
western direction, we found ourselves on Red 
Eiver, where John Finley, had formerly been 
trading with the Indians, and from the top 
of an eminence saw with pleasure the beau- 
tiful level of Kentucky. For some time we 
had experienced the most uncomfortable wea- 
ther. We now encamped, made a shelter to 
defend us from the inclement season, and be- 
gan to hunt and reconnoitre the country. We 
. found abundance of beasts in this vast forest. 
The buffaloes were more numerous than cattle 
on their settlements, browsing on the leaves 
of the cane, or cropping the herbage on these 
extensive plains. We saw hundreds in a 
drove, and the numbers around the salt 
springs were amazing. In this forest, the 
habitation of beasts of every American kind, 
we hunted with great success until December. 
On the 22d of December, John Stuart and 
I had a pleasing ramble ; but fortune changed 



H 

SI 

Q 

hH 

fed 

o 




nni 



Hi 

• 



99* 



ADVENTURES OF DANIEL BOONE. 259 

the day at the close of it. We passed through 
a great forest, in which stood myriads of trees, 
some gay with blossoms, others rich with 
fruits. Nature was here a series of wonders, 
and a fund of delight. Here she displayed 
her ingenuity and industry in a variety of 
flowers and fruits, beautifully colored, ele- 
gantly shaped, and charmingly flavored ; and 
we were favored with numberless animals 
presenting themselves perpetually to our view. 
In the decline of the day, near Kentucky 
river, as we ascended the brow of a small 
hill, a number of Indians rushed out of a cane 
brake and made us prisoners. 

The Indians plundered us and kept us in 
confinement seven days. During this time 
we discovered no uneasiness or desire to 
escape, which made them less suspicious ; 
but in the dead of night, as we lay by a large 
fire in a thick cane brake, when sleep had 
locked up their senses, my situation not dis- 
posing me to rest, I gently awoke my compa- 
nion. We seized this favorable opportunity 
and departed; directing our course towards 



260 STOKIES OP THE INDIANS. 

the old camp, but we found it plundered and 
our company destroyed or dispersed. 

About this time as my brother with an- 
other adventurer, who came to explore the 
country shortly after us, were wandering 
through the forest, they accidentally found our 
camp. Notwithstanding our unfortunate cir- 
cumstances, and our dangerous situation, sur- 
rounded by hostile savages, our meeting for- 
tunately in the wilderness gave us the most 
sensible satisfaction. 

Soon after this, my companion in captivity, 
John Stuart, was killed by the savages, and 
the man who came with my brother, while on 
a private excursion, was soon after attacked 
and killed by the wolves. We were now in a 
dangerous and helpless situation, exposed 
daily to perils and death, among savages and 
wild beasts, not a white man in the country 
but ourselves. 

Although many hundred miles from our 
families, in the howling wilderness, we did 
not continue in a state of indolence, but 



-ADVENTURES OF DANIEL BOONE. 



261 




A WOLF. 

hunted every day, and prepared a little cot- 
tage to defend us from the winter. 

On the 1st of May, 1770, my brother re- 
turned home for a new recruit of horses and 
ammunition ; leaving me alone, without salt, 
bread, or sugar, or even a horse or a dog. I 
passed a few days uncomfortably. The idea 
of a beloved wife and family, and their anx- 
iety on my account, would have disposed me 
to melancholy if I had further indulged in 
the thought. 

One day I undertook a tour through the 
country, when the diversity and beauties of 



262 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

nature I met with in this charming season, 
expelled every gloomy thought. Just at the 
close of the day, the gentle gales ceased ; a 
profound calm ensued; not a breath shook 
the tremulous leaf. I had gained the summit 
of a commanding ridge, and looking around 
with astonishing delight, beheld the ample 
plains and beauteous tracts below. On one 
hand I surveyed the famous Ohio rolling in 
silent dignity, and marking the western 
boundary of Kentucky with inconceivable 
grandeur. At a vast distance I beheld the 
mountains lift their venerable brows and pe- 
netrate the clouds, All things w T ere still. 1 
kindled a fire near a fountain of sweet water, 
and feasted on the line of a buck which I had 
killed a few hours before. The shades of 
night soon overspread the hemisphere, and 
the earth seemed to gasp after the hovering 
moisture. At a distance I frequently heard 
the hideous yells of savages. My excursion 
had fatigued my body and amused my mind. 
I laid me down to sleep, and awoke not until 
the sUn had chased away the night. I con- 



ADVENTURES OF DANIEL BOONE. 



263 




A WILD BUCK. 



tinued this tour, and in a few days explored 
a considerable part of the country, each day 
equally pleasing as the first. After which I 
returned to my old camp, which had not been 
disturbed in my absence. I did not confine 
my lodging to it, but often reposed in thick 
cane brakes to avoid the savages, who I be- 
lieve frequently visited my camp, but fortu- 



264: STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

nately for me in my absence. No populous 
city, with all its varieties of commerce and 
stately structures, could afford such pleasure 
to my mind, as the beauties of nature which 
I found in this country. 

Until the 27th of July, I spent my time in 
an uninterrupted scene of sylvan pleasures, 
when my brother, to my great felicity, met 
me, according to appointment, at our old 
camp. Soon after we left the place and pro- 
ceeded to Cumberland river, reconnoitring 
that part of the country, and giving names to 
the different rivers. 

In March, 1771, I returned home to my 
family, being determined to bring them as 
soon as possible, at the risk of my life and 
fortune, to reside in Kentucky, which I es- 
teemed a second paradise. 

On my return I found my family in happy 
circumstances. I sold my farm on the Yadkin, 
and what goods we could not carry with us, 
and on the 25th of September, 1773, we took 
leave of our friends, and proceeded on our 
journey to Kentucky, in company with five 



ADVENTURES OF DANIEL BOONE. 



265 





BOONE SETTLES ON CLENCH RIVER. 

more families, and forty men that joined us 
in Powel's Valley, which is one hundred and 
fifty miles from the new settled parts of Ken- 
tucky. But this promising beginning was 
soon overcast with a cloud of adversity. 

On the 10th of October, the rear of our 
company was attacked by a party of Indians ; 
who killed six, and wounded one man. Of 
these my eldest son was one that fell in the 
action. Though we repulsed the enemy, yet 
this unhappy affair scattered our cattle and 

23 



266 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

brought us into extreme difficulty. We re- 
turned forty miles to the settlement on Clench 
river. We had passed over two mountains, 
Powel's and Walden's, and were approaching 
Cumberland mountain, when this adverse 
fortune overtook us. These mountains are in 
the wilderness, in passing from the old set- 
tlement in Virginia to Kentucky ; are ranged 
in a south-west and north-east direction ; are 
of great length and breadth, and not far dis- 
tant from each other. Over them nature has 
formed passes less difficult than might be ex- 
pected from the view of such huge piles. The 
aspect of these cliffs is so wild and horrid., 
that it is impossible to behold them without 
horror. 

Until the 6th of June, 1774, I remained 
with my family on the Clench, when myself 
and another person were solicited by Gover- 
nor Dunmore, of Virginia, to conduct a num- 
ber of surveyors to the Falls of Ohio. This 
was a tour of eight hundred miles, and took 
sixty-two days. 

On my return, Governor Dunmore gave me 



ADVENTURES OE DANIEL BOONE. 



2(57 




BOONE ATTENDS THE INDIAN TREATY AT WATAGA. 

the command of three garrisons during the 
campaign against the Shawanese. In March. 
1775, at the solicitation of a number of gentle-* 
men of North Carolina, I attended their treaty 
at Wataga with the Cherokee Indians, to pur- 
chase the lands on the south side of Kentucky 
river. After this, I undertook to mark out a 
road in the best passage from the settlements 
through the wilderness to Kentucky. 

Having collected a number of enterprising 
men, well armed, I soon began this work. 
We proceeded until we came within fifteen 
miles of where Boonesborough now stands, 



268 



STOKIES OF THE INDIANS. 




SCENERY ON THE KENTUCKY RIVER. 

where the Indians attacked us, and killed 
two and wounded two more of our party. 
-This was on the 22d of March, 1775. Two 
days after we were again attacked by them, 
when we had two more killed and three 
wounded. After this we proceeded on to 
Kentucky river without opposition. 

On the 1st of April we began to erect the 
fort of Boonesborough, at a salt lick sixty 
yards from the river, on the south side. On 
the 4th, the Indians killed one of our men. 
On the 14th of June, having completed the 
fort, I returned to my family on the Clench, 



ADVENTURES OF DANIEL BOONE. 269 

and whom I soon after removed to the fort. 
My wife and daughter were supposed to be 
the first white women that ever stood on the 
banks of Kentucky river. 

On the 24th of December, the Indians 
killed one of our men and wounded another ; 
and on the 15th of July, 1776, they took my 
daughter prisoner. I immediately pursued 
them with eight men 7 and on the 16th over- 
took and engaged them. I killed two of them, 
and recovered my daughter. 

The Indians having divided themselves into 
several parties, attacked in one day all our 
infant settlements and forts, doing a great 
deal of damage. The husbandmen were am- 
bushed and unexpectedly attacked while toil- 
ing in the field. They continued this kind 
of warfare until the loth of April,. 1777, when 
nearly one hundred of them attacked the vil- 
lage of Boonesborough, and killed a number 
of its inhabitants. On the 16th Colonel Lo- 
gan's fort was attacked by two hundred In- 
dians. There were only thirteen men in the 

23* 



270 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

fort, of whom the enemy killed two and 
wounded one. 

On the 20th of August, Colonel Bowman 
arrived with one hundred men from Virginia, 
with which additional force we had almost 
daily skirmishes with the Indians, who began 
now to learn the superiority of the "long 
knife,' 7 as they termed us the Yirginians ; be- 
ing outgeneraled in almost every action. Our 
affairs began now to wear a better aspect, the 
Indians no longer daring to face us in open 
field, but sought private opportunities to de- 
stroy us. 

On the 7th of February, 1778, while on a 
hunting excursion alone, I met a party of 
one hundred and two Indians and two French- 
men, marching to attack Boonesborough. 
They pursued and took me prisoner, and con- 
veyed me to Old Chilicothe, the principal In- 
dian town on Little Miami, where we arrived 
on the 18th of February, after an uncomfort- 
able journey. On the 10th of March I was 
conducted to Detroit, and while there, was 
treated with great humanity by Governor 



ADVENTURES OF DANIEL BOONE. 271 

Hamilton, the British commander, at that 
post, and intendant for Indian affairs. 

The Indians had such an affection for me 
that they refused one hundred pounds sterling 
offered them by the governor, if they would 
consent to leave me with him, that he might 
be enabled to liberate me on my parole. 
Several English gentlemen then at Detroit, 
sensible of my adverse fortune, and touched 
with sympathy, generously offered to supply 
my wants, which I declined with many thanks, 
adding that I never expected it would be in 
my power to recompense such unmerited 
generosity. 

On the 10th of April, the Indians returned 
with me to Old Chilicothe, were we arrived 
on the 25th. This was a long and fatiguing 
march, although through an exceeding fertile 
country, remarkable for springs and streams 
of water. At Chilicothe I spent my time as 
comfortably as I could expect ; was adopted 
according to their custom, into a family where 
I became a son, and had a great share in the 
affection of my new parents, brothers, sisters. 



272 STOEIES OF THE INDIANS. 

and friends. I was exceedingly familiar and 
friendly with them, always appearing as 
cheerful and contented as possible, and they 
put great confidence in me. I often went a 
hunting w r ith them, and frequently gained 
their applause for my activity at our shooting 
matches. I was careful not to exceed many 
of them in shooting, for no people are more 
envious than they in this sport. I could ob- 
serve in their countenances and gestures the 
greatest expressions of joy, when they ex- 
ceeded me, and when the reverse happened, 
of envy. The Shawanese king took great no- 
tice of me, and treated me with profound re- 
spect and entire friendship, often entrusting 
me to hunt at my liberty. I frequently re- 
turned with the spoils of the woods, and as 
often presented some of what I had taken to 
him, expressive of duty to my sovereign. My 
food and lodging was in common with them, 
not so good indeed as I could desire, but ne- 
cessity made every thing acceptable. 

I now began to meditate an escape, and 
carefully avoided giving suspicion. I con- 



ADVENTURES OF DANIEL BOONE. 2? 3 

tinued at Chilicothe until the 1st day of June, 
when I was taken to the salt springs on the 
Sciota, and there employed ten days in the 
manufacturing of salt. During this time I 
hunted with my Indian masters, and found 
the land, for a great extent about this river, 
to exceed the soil of Kentucky. 

On my return to Chilicothe, one hundred 
and fifty of the choicest warriors were ready 
to march against Boonesborough. They were 
painted and armed in a frightful manner. 
This alarmed me, and I determined to escape. 

On the 18th of June, before sun rise, I went 
off secretly, and reached Boonesborough on 
the 20th, a journey of one hundred and sixty 
miles, during which I had only one meal. I 
found our fortress in a bad state, but we im- 
mediately repaired our flanks, gates, and pos- 
terns, and formed double bastions, which we 
completed in ten days. One of my fellow 
prisoners escaped after me, and brought ad- 
vice that on account of my flight the Indians 
had put off their expedition for three weeks. 

About the first of August I set out with 



274 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

nineteen men, to surprise Point Creek Town, 
on Sciuta, within four miles of which we fell 
in with forty Indians, going against Boones- 
borough. We attacked them and they soon 
gave way without any loss on our part. The 
enemy had one killed and two wounded. We 
took three horses and all their baggage. The 
Indians having evacuated their town, and 
gone altogether against Boonesborough, we re- 
turned, passed them on the 6th, and on the 
7th arrived safe at Boonesborough. 

On the 9 th the Indian army, consisting of 
four hundred and forty-four men, under the 
command of Captain Duquesne, and eleven 
other Frenchmen and their own chiefs, arrived 
and summoned the fort to surrender. I re- 
quested two days' consideration, which was 
granted. During this we brought in through 
the posterns all the horses and other cattle 
we could collect. 

On the 9th, in the evening, I informed their 
commander that we were determined to defend 
the fort while a man was living. They then 
proposed a treaty, they would withdraw. The 




BOONE TAKEN PRISONER. 



ADVENTURES OF DANIEL BOONE. 277 

treaty was held within sixty yards of the fort, 
as we suspected the savages. The articles 
were agreed to and signed ; when the Indians 
told us it was their custom for two Indians 
to shake hands with every white man in the 
treaty, as an evidence of friendship. We 
agreed to this also. They immediately grap- 
pled us to take us prisoners, but we cleared 
ourselves of them, though surrounded by hun- 
dreds, and gained the fort safe, except one 
man, who was wounded by a heavy fire from 
the enemy. 

The savages now began to undermine the 
fort, beginning at the water mark of the Ken- 
tucky river, which is sixty yards from the 
fort ; this we discovered by the water being 
muddy by the clay. We countermined them 
by cutting a trench across their subterraneous 
passage. The enemy discovering this by the 
clay we threw out of the fort, desisted. On 
the 20th of August, they raised the siege, 
during which we had two men killed and four 
wounded. We lost a number of cattle. The 
enemy had thirty-seven killed, and a much 

24 



278 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

larger number wounded. We* picked up one 
hundred and twenty-five pounds of their bul- 
lets, besides what stuck in the logs of the fort. 

In July, 1779, during my absence, Colonel 
Bowman, with one hundred and sixty men, 
went against the Shawanese of Old Chilicothe. 
He arrived undiscovered. A battle ensued 
which lasted until ten in the morning, when 
Colonel Bowman retreated thirty miles. The 
Indians collected all their strength and pur- 
sued him, when another engagement ensued 
for two hours, not to Colonel Bowman's ad- 
vantage. Colonel Harrod proposed to mount 
a number of horses, and break the enemy's 
line, who at this time fought with remarkable 
fury. This desperate measure had a happy 
effect, and the savages fled on all sides. In 
these two engagements we had nine men 
killed and one wounded. The enemy's loss 
uncertain. Only two scalps were taken. 

June 23d, 1780, five hundred Indians and 
Canadians, under Colonel Bird, attacked Kid- 
dle and Martin's station, on the forks of Lick- 
ing river, with six pieces of artillery. They 



ADVENTURES 0^ DANIEL BOONE. 279 

took all the inhabitants captives, and killed 
one man and two women, loading the others 
with the heavy baggage, and such as failed 
in the journey were tomahawked. 

The hostile disposition of the savages 
caused General Clark, the commandant at the 
Falls of Ohio, to march with his regiment 
and the armed force of the country against 
Peccaway, the principal town of the Shawa- 
nese, on a branch of the Great Miami, which 
he attacked with great success, took seventy 
scalps, and reduced the town to ashes, with 
the loss of seventeen men. 

About this time I returned to Kentucky 
with my family ; for during my captivity, my 
wife thinking me killed by the Indians, had 
transported my family and goods on horses 
through the wilderness, amidst many dangers, 
to her father's house ir. Forth Carolina. 

On the 6th of October, 1780, soon after my 
settling again at Boonesborough, I went with 
my brother to the Blue Licks, and on our re- 
turn he was shot by a party of Indians, who 
followed me by the scent of a dog, which I 



280 STOKIES OF THE INDIANS. 

shot and escaped. The seventy of the winter 
caused great distress in Kentucky, the enemy 
during the summer having destroyed most 
of the corn. The inhabitants lived chiefly 
on buffalo's flesh. 

In the spring of 1782, the Indians harassed 
us. In May, they ravished, killed, and scalped 
a woman and her two daughters, near Ash- 
ton's station, and took a negro prisoner. 
Captain Ashton pursued them with twenty- 
men, and in an engagement which lasted two 
hours, his party were obliged to retreat, hav- 
ing eight killed, and four mortally wounded. 
Their brave commander fell in the action. 

August 18th, two boys were carried off from 
Major Hoy's station. Captain Holden pur- 
sued the enemy with seventeen men, who 
were also defeated, with the loss of seven 
killed and two wounded. Our affairs became 
more and more alarming. The savages in- 
fested the country and destroyed the whites 
as opportunity presented. In a field near 
Lexington, an Indian shot a man, and running 
to scalp him, was himself shot from the fort, 



ADVENTURES OF DANIEL BOONE. 281 

and fell dead upon the ground. All the In- 
dian nations were now united against us. 

August loth, five hundred Indians and 
Canadians came against Briat's station, five 
miles from Lexington. The) 7 assaulted the 
fort and all the cattle round it ; but being 
repulsed, they retired the third day, having 
about eighty killed ; their wounded uncertain. 
The garrison had four killed and nine wounded. 

August 18th, Colonels Todd and Trigg, Ma- 
jor Harland and myself, speedily collected 
one hundred and seventy-six men, well armed, 
and pursued the savages. They had marched 
beyond the Blue Lick, to a remarkable bend 
of the main fork of Licking river, about forty- 
three miles from Lexington, where we over- 
took them on the 19th. The savages observ- 
ing us, gave way, and we being ignorant of 
their numbers, passed the river. When they 
saw our proceedings, having greatly the ad- 
vantage in situation, they formed their line 
of battle from one end of Licking to the other, 
about a mile from the Blue Licks. The en- 
gagement was close and ^arnx for about fif- 

24* 



282 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

teen minutes, when we being overpowered by 
numbers, were obliged to retreat, with the loss 
of seventy-seven men, seven of whom were 
taken prisoners. The brave and much la- 
mented Colonels Todd and Trigg, Major Har- 
land, and my second son were among the 
dead. "We were afterwards informed that the 
Indians on numbering their dead, finding 
that they had four more killed than we, four 
of our people that they had taken were given 
up to their young warriors, to be put to death 
after their barbarous manner. 

On our retreat we were met by Colonel Lo- 
gan, who was hastening to join us with a 
number of well armed men. This powerful 
assistance we wanted on the day of battle. 
The enemy said one more fire from us would 
have made them give way. 

I cannot reflect upon this dreadful scene, 
without great sorrow. A zeal for the defence 
of their country led these heroes to the scene 
of action, though with a few men, to attack 
a powerful army of experienced warriors. 
When we gave way, they pursued us with the 



ADVENTURES OF DANIEL BOONE. 



283 




MOUNTED MUSKETEER. 



utmost eagerness, and in every quarter spread 
destruction. The river was difficult to cross, 
and many were killed in the fight, some just 
entering the river, some in the water, and 
others after crossing, in ascending the cliffs. 
Some escaped on horseback, a few on foot ; 
and being dispersed every where, in a few 
hours, brought the melancholy news of this 



284 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

unfortunate battle to Lexington. Many 
widows were made. The reader may guess 
what sorrow filled the hearts of the inhabi- 
tants, exceeding any thing that I am able to 
describe. Being reinforced, we returned to 
bury the dead, and found their bodies strewed 
every where, cut and mangled in a dreadful 
manner. This mournful scene exhibited a 
horror almost unparalleled : some torn and 
eaten by wild beasts ; those in the river eaten 
by fishes ; and all in such a putrid condition 
that no one could be distinguished from 
another. 

When General Clark, at the Falls of the 
Ohio, heard of our disaster, he ordered an ex- 
pedition to pursue the savages. We overtook 
them within two miles of their town, and we 
should have obtained a great victory had not 
some of them met us when about two hun- 
dred poles from their camp. The savages 
fled in the utmost disorder, and evacuated 
all their towns. We burned to ashes Old 
Chilicothe, Peccaway, New Chilicothe, and 
Wills Town ; entirely destroyed their com 



ADVENTURES OF DANIEL BOONE. 285 

and other fruits, and spread desolation through 
their country. We took seven prisoners and 
fifteen scalps, and lost only four men, two of 
whom were accidentally killed by ourselves. 
This campaign dampened the enemy, yet they 
made secret incursions. 

In October, a party attacked Crab Orchard, 
and one of them being a good way before the 
others, boldly entered a house in which were 
only a woman and her children, and a negro 
man. The savage used no violence, but at- 
tempted to carry off the negro, who happily 
proved too strong for him, and threw him on 
the ground, and in the struggle the woman 
cut off his head with an axe, whilst her 
daughter shut the door. The savages instantly 
came up and applied their tomahawks to the 
door, when the mother putting an old rusty 
gun barrel through the crevices, the savages 
immediately went off. 

From that time till the happy return of 
peace between the United States and Great 
Britain, the Indians did us no mischief. Soon 
after this the Indians desired peace. 



288 



STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 



Two darling sons and a brother I have los, 
by savage hands, which have also taken from 
ine forty valuable horses, and abundance of 
cattle. Many dark and sleepless nights have 
I spent, separated from the cheerful society 
of men, scorched by the summer's sun, and 
pinched by the winter's cold, an instrument 
ordained to settle the wilderness. 




BU&YING THE DEAD, 








ADYENTURE OF GENERAL PUTNAM. 

-A ^ the month of August, 
1758, five hundred 
men were employed, 
under the orders of 
Majors Eogers and 
Putnam, to watch the 
French and Indians, 
near Ticonderoga. At South Bay, they sepa- 

(287) 




288 STOBIES OF THE INDIANS. 

rated the party into two equal divisions, and 
Sogers took a position on Wood creek, twelve 
miles distant from Putnam. 

Upon being, sometime afterwards, disco- 
vered, they formed a re- union, and concerted 
measures for returning to Fort Edward. Their 
march through the woods, was in three divi- 
sions, by files, the right commanded by Kogers, 
the left by Putnam, and the centre by Cap- 
tain D'Ell. The first night they encamped on 
the banks of Clear river, about a mile from 
old Fort Ann, which had been formerly built 
by General Nicholson. 

Next morning, Major Eogers and a British 
officer, named Irwin, incautiously suffered 
themselves, from a spirit of false emulation, 
to be engaged in firing at a mark. Nothing 
could have been more repugnant to the mili- 
tary principles of Putnam than such conduct, 
or reprobated by him in more pointed terms. 
As soon as the heavy dew which had fallen 
the preceding night would permit, the de- 
tachment moved in one body, Putnam being 
in front, D'Ell in centre, and Eogers in the 



ADVENTURE OF GENERAL PUTNAM. 289 

rear. The impervious growth of shrubs, and 
underbrush, that had sprung up, where the 
land had been partially cleared some years 
before, occasioned this change in the order 
of march. At the moment of moving, the 
famous French partisan, Molang, who had 
been sent with five hundred men to intercept 
our party, was not more than a mile and a 
half distant from them. Having heard the 
firing, he hastened to lay an ambuscade pre- 
cisely in that part of the wood most favorable 
to his project. Major Putnam was just 
emerging from the thicket, into the common 
forest, when the enemy rose, and with dis- 
cordant yells and whoops, commenced an at- 
tack upon the right of his division. Sur- 
prised, but undismayed, Putnam halted, re- 
turned the fire, and passed the word for the 
other divisions to advance for his support. 
D'Ell came. The action, though widely scat- 
tered, and principally fought between man 
and man, soon grew general and intensely 
warm. It would be as difficult as useless to 
describe this irregular and ferocious mode of 

25 



290 STOKIES OF«THE INDIANS. 

fighting. Kogers came not up; but, as he 
declared afterwards, formed a circular file be- 
tween our party and "Wood creek, to prevent 
their being taken in rear or enfiladed. Suc- 
cessful as he commonly was, his conduct did 
not always pass without unfavorable imputa- 
tion. Notwithstanding, it was a current say- 
ing in the camp, " that Rogers always sent, 
but Putnam led his men to action/' — yet, in 
justice, it ought to be remarked here, that 
the latter has never been known, in relating 
the story of this day's disaster, to fix any 
stigma upon the conduct of the former. 

Major Putnam, perceiving it would be im- 
practicable to cross the creek, determined to 
maintain his ground. Inspired by his ex- 
ample, the officers and men behaved with 
great bravery : sometimes they fought collec- 
tively in open view, and sometimes indivi- 
dually under cover ; taking aim from behind 
the bodies of trees, and acting in a manner 
independent of each other. For himself, hav- 
ing discharged his fuzee several times, at 
length it missed fire, whilst the muzzle was 



ADVENTURE OF GENERAL PUTNAM. 291 




PUTNAM TAKEN PRISONER. 

pressed against the breast of a large and well 
proportioned savage. This warrior, availing 
himself of the indefensible attitude of his ad- 
versary, with a tremendous war-whoop sprang 
forward, with his lifted hatchet, and compelled 
him to surrender ; and having disarmed and 
bound him fast to a tree, returned to the 
battle. 

The intrepid Captains D'Ell and Harman, 
who now commanded, were forced to give 
ground for a little distance ; the savages, con- 
ceiving this to be the certain harbinger of 



292 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

victory, rushed impetuously on, with dreadful 
and redoubled cries. But our two partisans, 
collecting a handful of brave men, gave the 
pursuers so warm a reception as to oblige 
them in turn, to retreat a little beyond the 
spot at which the action had commenced. 

Here they made a stand. This change of 
ground occasioned the tree, to which Putnam 
was tied, to be directly between the two par- 
ties. Human imagination can hardly figure 
to itself a more deplorable situation. The 
balls flew incessantly from either side, many 
struck the tree, while some passed through 
the sleeves and skirts of his coat. In this 
state of jeopardy, unable to move his body, 
to stir his limbs, or even to incline his head, 
he remained more than an hour. So equally 
balanced, and so obstinate was the fight! 
At one moment, while the battle swerved in 
in favor of the enemy, a young savage chose 
an odd way of discovering his humor. He 
found Putnam bound. He might have de- 
spatched him at a blow ; but he loved better 
to excite the terrors of the prisoner, by hurl- 



ADVENTUKE OF GENERAL PUTNAM. 293 

ing a tomahawk at his head, or rather it 
should seem his object was to see how near 
he could throw it without touching him — the 
weapon struck in the tree a number of times 
at a hair's breadth distant from the mark. 
When the Indian had finished his amusement, 
a French officer, (a much more inveterate 
savage by nature, though descended from so 
humane and polished a nation,) perceiving 
Putnam, came up to him, and leveling a fu- 
zee within a foot of his breast, attempted to 
discharge it ; it missed fire — ineffectually did 
the intended victim solicit the treatment due 
to his situation, by repeating that he was a 
prisoner of war. The degenerate officer did 
not understand the language of honor or of 
nature ; deaf to their voice, and dead to sen- 
sibility, he violently and repeatedly pushed 
the muzzle of his gun against Putnam's ribs, 
and finally gave him a cruel blow on the jaw 
with the butt of his piece. After this das- 
tardly deed he left him. 

At length the active intrepidity of D'Ell 
and Harman, seconded by the persevering 

25* 



294 STOKIES OF THE INDIANS. 

valor of their followers, prevailed. They drovo 
from the field the enemy, who left about 
ninety dead behind them. As they were re- 
tiring, Putnam was untied by the Indian who 
had made him prisoner, and whom he after- 
wards called master. 

Having been conducted for some distance 
from the place of action, he was stripped of 
his coat, vest, stockings, and shoes ; loaded 
with as many packs of the wounded as could 
be piled upon him: strongly pinioned, and 
his wrists tied as closely together as they 
could be pulled with a cord. After he had 
marched through no pleasant paths, in this 
painful manner, for many a tedious mile, the 
party, who were excessively fatigued, halted 
to breathe. His hands were now immode- 
rately swelled from the tightness of the liga- 
ture ; and the pain had become intolerable. 
His feet were so much scratched that the 
blood dropped fast from them. Exhausted 
with bearing a burden above his strength, 
and frantic with torments exquisite beyond 
endurance, he entreated the Irish interpreter 



ADVENTURES OF GENERAL PUTNAM. 295 

to implore as the last and only grace he de- 
sired of the savages, that they would knock 
him on the head and take his scalp at once, 
or loose his hands. 

A French officer, instantly interposing, or- 
dered his hands to be unbound, and some of 
the packs to be taken off. By this time the 
Indian who captured him, and had been ab- 
sent with the wounded, coming up, gave him 
a pair of moccasins, and expressed great in- 
dignation at the unworthy treatment his pri- 
soner had suffered. 

That savage chief again returned to the 
care of the wounded, and, the Indians, about 
two hundred in number, went before the rest 
of the party to the place where the whole 
were, that night, to encamp. They took with 
them Major Putnam, on whom (besides innu- 
merable other outrages) they had the barba- 
rity to inflict a deep wound with a tomahawk, 
in the cheek. His sufferings were in this 
place to be consummated. A scene of horror, 
infinitely greater than had ever met his eyes 
before, was now preparing. It was deter- 



296 STORIES OP THE INDIANS. 

mined to roast him alive. For this purpose 
they led him into a dark forest, stripped him 
naked, bound him to a tree, and piled dried 
brush with other fuel, at a small distance, in 
a circle round him. They accompanied their 
labors, as if for his funeral dirge, with screams 
and sounds inimitable but by savage voices. 
Then they set the piles on fire. A sudden 
shower damped the rising flame. Still they 
strove to kindle it, until, at last, the blaze 
ran fiercely round the circle. Major Putnam 
soon began to feel the scorching heat. His 
hands were so tied that he could move his 
body. He often shifted sides as the fire ap- 
proached. This sight, at the very idea of 
which all but savages must shudder, afforded 
the highest diversion to his inhuman tor- 
mentors, who demonstrated the delirium of 
their joy by corresponding yells, dances, and 
gesticulations. He saw clearly that his final 
hour was inevitably come. He summoned 
all his resolution and composed his mind, as 
far as the circumstances could admit, to bid 
an eternal farewell to all he held most dear. 



ADVENTURE OF GENERAL PUTNAM, 297 

To quit the world would scarcely have cost 
a single pang, but for the idea of home ; but 
for the remembrance of domestic endearments, 
of the affectionate partner of his soul, and of 
their beloved offspring. His thought was ul- 
timately fixed on a happier state of existence, 
beyond the tortures he was beginning to en- 
dure. The bitterness of death, even of that 
death which is accompanied with the keenest 
agonies, was, in a manner, past — nature, with 
a feeble struggle, was quitting its last hold 
on sublunary things — when a French officer 
rushed through the crowd, opened the way 
by scattering the burning brands, and un- 
bound the victim. It was Molang himself — 
to whom a savage, unwilling to see another 
human sacrifice immolated, had run and com- 
municated the tidings. That commandant 
spurned and severely reprimanded the barba- 
rians, whose nocturnal powwows and hellish 
orgies he suddenly ended. Putnam did not 
want for feeling and gratitude. The French 
commander, fearing to trust him alone with 



298 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

thero, remained until he could deliver him. 
in safety into the hands of his master. 

The savage approached his prisoner kindly, 
and seemed to treat him with peculiar affec- 
tion. He offered him some hard biscuit, but 
finding that he could not chew them, on ac- 
count of the blow he had received from the 
Frenchman, this more humane savage soaked 
some of the biscuit in water and made him 
suck the pulp-like part Determined, how- 
ever, not to lose his captive (the refreshment 
being finished) he took the moccasins from 
his feet and tied them to one of his wrists ; 
then directing him to lie down on his back 
upon the bare ground, he stretched one arm 
to its full length, and bound it fast to a young 
tree ; the other arm was extended and bound 
in the same manner — his legs were stretched 
apart and fastened to two saplings. Then 
a number of tall, but slender poles were cut 
down; which, with some long bushes, were 
laid across his body from head to foot : on 
each side lay as many Indians as could con- 
veniently find lodging, in order to prevent the 



ADVENTURE OF GENERAL PUTNAM. 299 

possibility of his escape. In this disagree- 
able and painful posture he remained until 
morning. During this night, the longest and 
most dreary conceivable, our hero used to re- 
late that he felt a ray of cheerfulness come 
casually across his mind, and could not even 
refrain from smiling, when he reflected on 
this ludicrous group for a painter, of which 
he himself was the principal figure. 

The next day he was allowed his blanket 
and moccasins, and permitted to march with- 
out carrying any pack, or receiving any in- 
sult. To allay his extreme hunger, a little 
bear's meat was given him, which he sucked 
through his teeth. At night, the party ar- 
rived at Ticonderoga, and the prisoner was 
placed under a French guard. The savages, 
who had been prevented from glutting their 
diabolical thirst for blood, took other oppor- 
tunities of manifesting their malevolence for 
the disappointment, by horrid grimaces and 
angry gestures ; but they were suffered no 
more to offer violence or personal indignity to 
him. 



300 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

After having been examined by the Mar- 
quis de Montcalm, Major Putnam was eon- 
ducted to Montreal, by a French officer, who 
treated him with the greatest indulgence and 
humanity. 

At this place were several prisoners. Co- 
lonel Peter Schuyler, remarkable for his phi- 
lanthropy, generosity, and friendship, was of 
the number. No sooner had he heard of Ma- 
jor Putnam's arrival, than he went to the in- 
terpreter's quarters, and inquired whether he 
had a provincial major in his custody. He 
found Major Putnam in a comfortless condi- 
tion — without hat, waistcoat, or hose — the 
remnant of his clothing miserably dirty, and 
ragged — his beard long and squalid — his legs 
torn by thorns and briers — his face gashed 
with wounds, and swollen with bruises. Co- 
lonel Schuyler, irritated beyond all sufferance 
at such a sight, could scarcely restrain his 
speech within limits consistent with the pru- 
dence of a prisoner, and the meekness of a 
christian. Major Putnam was immediately 
treated according to his rank, clothed in a 



ADVENTURE OF GENERAL PUTNAM. 301 

decent manner, and supplied with money by 
that liberal and sympathetic patron of the 
distressed. 

The capture of Frontenac, by General Brad- 
street, afforded occasion for an exchange of 
prisoners : Colonel Schuyler was comprehended 
in the cartel. A generous spirit can never 
be satisfied with imposing tasks for its gene- 
rosity to accomplish. Apprehensive if it 
should be known that Putnam was a distin- 
guished partisan, his liberation might be re- 
tarded, and knowing that there were officers, 
who, from the length of their captivity, had 
a claim of priority to exchange ; he had, by 
his happy address, induced the governor to 
offer, that whatever officer he might think 
proper to nominate, should be included in the 
present cartel. With great politeness in 
manner, but seeming indifference as to object, 
he expressed his warmest acknowledgments 
to the governor, and said : " There is an old 
man here, who is a provincial major, and he 
wishes to be at home with his wife and child- 
ren. He can do no good here, or any where 

26 



302 



STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 



else: I believe your excellency had better 
keep some of the young men, who have no 
wife or children to care for, and let the old 
fellow go home with me." This justifiable 
finesse had the desired effect." 





GEORGE CALVERT, THE FIRST LORD BALTIMORE. 




THE INDIANS OF ST. MARY'S. 

IT belonged to a mem- 
ber of the once do- 
minant sect of Ca- 
tholics to glorify his 
creed and clime, and to 
set an example to the 
world, in the establish- 
ment of complete reli- 
To George Calvert, the origi- 
26* (305) 




gious liberty. 



306 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

nator of the scheme for colonizing Maryland, 
this honor belonged ; but, alas ! he was not 
permitted to execute the plans his noble 
heart conceived, for death snatched him from 
his labors, ere the boon he contemplated for 
the world was ready to be given. 

But Cecil Calvert was a worthy son of so 
great a father. He at once entered into all 
the plans of his deceased parent, and with a 
veneration that does him credit, resolved that 
they should be carried out to the fullest ex- 
tent; and the slightest wish the old lord had 
expressed in regard to the new colony should 
be religiously complied with. Bigots sneered 
at him, enemies maligned, but, conscious of 
the rectitude of his purpose, he steadily pur- 
sued his plans. 

Under the guidance of Leonard Calvert, (a 
brother of the proprietor,) some two hundred 
English gentlemen, and their servants, mostly 
of the catholic persuasion, sailed for the pro- 
vince, in November, 1633, and after the usual 
vicissitudes and adventures of a sea voyage at 
that period, arrived in the Potomac in the 



THE INDIANS OF ST. MARY ? S. 307 

spring of 1634. A small party was despatched 
into the interior to explore the country pre- 
vious to effecting a permanent settlement; 
the woods were then all joyous and teeming 
with grandeur, and loveliness of spring tint- 
ing the fair face of nature with that peculiar 
and fascinating beauty which is better felt 
than described. 

To the sea-worn colonists, the country 
opened before them as a broad fair haven, 
where they might worship God free as the air 
and feel themselves men. The scouts soon 
returned, and, according to their direction, 
the party moved up to a spot they had se- 
lected on the banks of a clear and silvery 
stream flowing into the broad river they had 
first entered. Here, with the usual cere- 
monies, Calvert took possession, naming 
the surrounding country " Marie-land/ 7 in 
honor of "our glorious ladye, the queene;" 
and in gratitude for their success thus far, 
they named the river St. Mary. 

But the good Cecil, in the wise provision 
for the wants of his people had not forgotten 



308 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

the rightful lords of the soil, the Indian abo- 
rigines. " Entreat them kindly always, I con- 
jure you, endeavor assiduously to cultivate 
their friendship, and above all take no land 
from them but what ye might pay therefor." 
Such were the mild and benevolent instruc- 
tions of the proprietor, and faithfully were 
they carried into execution by his brother, 
the governor. 

Anxious, therefore, to secure his settlement 
on a firm basis, and to obtain an acknow- 
ledged title to the soil, Calvert submitted 
to a neighboring chief, his propositions to 
purchase land of him, but received an answer 
of sullen indifference, " I will neither bid you 
go nor ask you to stay." Such was the ad- 
dress and courtesy of the governor, however, 
and the just and pacific policy of his people, 
that not only was the stoic warrior won over 
to their interests, but he also exerted his in- 
fluence with the neighboring tribes, on behalf 
of the new comers. 

Through his aid a council of the neighbor- 
ing Indians was soon convened. The gover- 



THE INDIANS OF ST. MAKY ? S. 309 

nor appeared in pomp, and addressed them, 
calling them brothers, and asking for a piece 
of ground, that he and his people might plant 
corn, and the red man and the pale face would 
live together in peace and unity. He de- 
scribed to them, in their own exaggerated 
rhetoric, the power of the King of England, 
and his master, the Lord of Baltimore, and 
told them the kind messages he had sent to 
his forest children. 

The Indians replied in the language of 
kindness and conciliation. "The wiiite man 
should have land — room enough for both 
people — plenty room — White chief very good 
to send word to the Indians." The governor 
and chief then embraced each other, and the 
pipe of peace was passed round the circle, 
each one gravely taking a few whiffs. A treaty 
w T as then made, giving to the settlers a con- 
siderable tract of land, within which w^as the 
Indian town of Taocomoco. 

To this town they gave the name of St. 
Mary's, in honor of the Virgin, and the first 
building erected was a chapel dedicated to 



310 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

her worship. The Indians looked upon the 
colonists with surprise, they mingled freely 
with them, and had many curious and amus- 
ing questions to ask concerning every thing 
they saw, and which was all new to them. 

One morning a party ol them wandered 
into the church, and gazed with bewildered 
air upon the pictures and crucifixes with 
which it was decorated. Shortly after this, 
one of their number being on a visit to the 
governor, he presented him with a rosary, 
having a small crucifix attached ; the happy 
fellow received it with a yell of delight, and 
ran off to his comrades, whirling up his prize, 
and they immediately commenced kneeling 
and crossing themselves in the same manner 
they had observed the worshippers do in the 
chapel. 

It is something refreshing and ennobling, 
amid the dark and sickening catalogue of bi- 
gotry, slaughter, and desolating wars which 
disgraced the history of too many of our 
states, to look back on one green spot, where 
fellow men were not spurned and despised 



THE INDIANS OF ST. MAM S 311 

on account of their creed, and where the poor 
Indian was treated with kindness. 

Many of the tribes in the vicinity, attracted 
by curiosity, and the good name given to 
these new people, came to the settlement, 
and their chiefs were entertained with a 
sumptuous feast on board a ship, which lay 
anchored in the river, the King of Patuxent 
being seated at the table between the Gover- 
nor of Maryland, and the Governor of Virginia, 
who was also present on a friendly mission. 

When the storehouse was finished, and it 
became necessary to unload the ships, the 
governor, in order to gratify his Indian friends, 
and make a proper impression on all who 
were inclined to be enemies, directed it to be 
done with all due solemnity. The colors were 
displayed, and the colonists clad in military 
costume, paraded under arms, to the strains 
of martial music, the sound of v^hich so de- 
lighted the Indians, that they clapped their 
hands in glee, and struck off in one of their 
national festive dances. 

Volleys of musketry were fired on shore, 



312 STOEIES OF THE INDIANS. 

and answered by discharges of cannon on 
board the ship, which terrified the Indians 
so highly, that they fled some distance into 
the woods ; but finding no harm done, they 
returned greatly impressed with the power of 
the people who could bring " the big thunder" 
to their aid. Some of the sachems from a 
distance, being present at this exhibition, 
took occasion to warn the Indians of Yaoco- 
moco, (or St. Mary's, as it was now called,) 
to keep the league they had made with the 
English. 

The old King of Patuxent in particular 
showed undecided partiality for the "good 
men," as he called them. He remained in 
town several days, during which he was 
treated with becoming attention, and when 
about to leave, made use of this remarkable 
expression, to the governor : "I love the En- 
glish so well, that if they should go about to 
kill me, I would command the people not to 
avenge my death ; for I know they would do 
no such a thing, except it were through my 
own fault." 




THE KING OF PATUXENT. 



THE INDIANS OF ST. MARY'S. 315 

At length the ship sailed, leaving the colo- 
nists alone with their red brethren. Before 
he left, however, the captain called the In- 
dians together, and told them he was going, 
and they must be kind to the people he left 
behind, and he would tell his great lord how 
good they were. 

The Indians seemed much affected when 
he told them he was going, and pressed around 
to take a farewell. They accompanied him 
to the boat, and brought some of their forest 
furs, and bows, and ornamented pipes, which 
they begged him to give "to great white 
chief, and tell him how much his Indian 
children love him — thank him very much, 
for the good people he send to live among In- 
dians,- — we love him much, and we love his 
people. We be all English. " 

No community could now be happier than 
the little colony on the St. Mary's. It seemed 
as if the golden age was realized, when all 
men should dwell together in peace and unity. 
The English and the Indians lived together 
in St. Mary's, each occupying half the town 



316 



STOEIES OP THE INDIANS. 




CECIL CALVERT. 



according to a stipulation between them, and 
the utmost harmony prevailed. 

Once a party of them visiting the gover- 
nor's, they were shown a portrait of the pro- 
prietor, Cecil Calvert, the second Lord Balti- 
more, which they regarded in silence for some- 
time, and then exclaimed, " great father, good 
father — He love us much — we love him," and 
eagerly inquired if he would ever come over 
and see them. 

Frequently they would enter the chapel 



THE INDIANS OF ST. MARY ? S. 31 7 

when the congregation was at worship, and 
would look with respectful attention on the 
ceremonies. The worthy pastor of the colo- 
nists, early took a great interest in the wel- 
fare of the Indians. He delighted to see them 
in the chapel, and would tell them to come 
often. A class of native children was soon 
formed to learn the catechism, and some few 
of the adults were won over to the catholic 
faith, and were received into the church by 
baptism, with becoming ceremony. The good 
priest was very kind to his Indian charge ; he 
would enter their wigwams and talk to them, 
and give them little pictures of the saints, 
and small rosaries, which they stuck up in 
conspicuous places and highly esteemed. 

In this way he won their gratitude and af- 
fection, until he came to be regarded by 
them with dutiful awe and reverence, and re- 
ceived the title of father, the same which the 
whites gave him. They would say, "big 
chief great man — Father also great, he be 
good — talk kind to Indian — Indian sick — he 
give him good medicine make him well. Fa- 

27* 



318 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

ther great medicine-man, him big doctor beat 
Indian medicine-man." 

The natives testified their friendly dispo- 
sition, by going every day into the woods 
with their new neighbors, pointing out the 
best resorts of game, joining in the chase 
with them, and when the whites were too 
busy to hunt, they would go alone, and bring 
home venison and wild turkies in abundance, 
which they would lay at the feet of the set- 
tlers, and go away well satisfied with the 
cheap requital of knives, beads, and toys. 

Observing that the whites, one day in the 
week, use fish instead of meat, and were de- 
sirous of obtaining a sufficient supply of it, 
they would go and fish for them, and bring 
every Friday morning an abundance for the 
whole settlement. 

They likewise showed them the best places 
in the river for fishing stations, and instructed 
them in their own methods of catching the 
various kinds of fish that inhabited the shal- 
low waters. From these resources, the colo- 
nists were so abundantly supplied, and the 



THE INDIANS OF ST. MARY'S. 321 

provisions they had brought with them so 
extended, that every one enjoyed plenty 
through the entire winter, and the times of 
starving and desolation so common in the 
history of other colonies w r ere unknown in 
the homes of the peaceful Marylanders. 

Altogether, the settlers and the aborigines 
were so thoroughly mixed in friendship and 
intercourse, that they seemed as one people 
in thought and feeling, differing only in the 
distinctions which nature herself had imposed. 
The Indians were allowed freelv to enter the 
dwellings of the whites, at any time they 
chose, the doors never being fastened against 
them. They would frequently come and eat 
with them, and sleep under their roofs, and 
many of the whites would pay similar visits 
to the lodges at the other end of the town. 

Their women also instructed the wives of 
the colonists in making bread of maize, which 
soon became a staple article of diet, and the 
cultivation of corn was extensively entered 
into. As a certain mark of entire confidence 
of the Indians, their women and children be- 



322 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

came in a great measure domesticated in the 
the English families, and were treated in 
every respect on a perfect equality with the 
whites. 

During the cold weather, when the men 
were in a great measure unemployed, the na- 
tives instructed them in the various ways of 
pursuing game, the snares laid for them, and 
the best method of approaching the unsus- 
pecting prey. One very singular mode of 
gaining on the deer, in which they initiated 
the whites, until they became by practice 
almost as expert as themselves, deserves par- 
ticular mention: An Indian hunter and a 
party of whites, go into the woods together, 
and presently discover a deer in the dis- 
tance, feeding, and warily watching for danger, 
the whites, as directed, would hide themselves 
behind a rock, and the Indian putting on 
the skin of a deer, to which the head and 
horns were left attached, would creep along, 
in a circuitous direction, towards the deer, 
mimicking to perfection the gait and ap- 
pearance of that animal. Cautiously advanc- 



w 
M 

»— ( 

go 

% 

H 

a 

o 

H 

l-H 

o 

W 
CO 

tel 

H 
H 
tH 

GO 
CO 

i 

s 

02 







THE INDIANS OF ST. MARY'S. 325 

ing, pretending all the time to be feeding, he 
would approach the animal, until he had ex- 
cited its attention, when it would raise its 
head and look curiously at him, when he was 
within a few feet of it, he would partially 
disengage himself from his covering, and 
drawing out his bow and arrow, with which 
he was previously provided, would take de- 
liberate and fatal aim, and speedily bring the 
noble beast to the ground. 

In the following spring, the natives from a 
distance assembled to carry on a trade with 
the strangers, which was conducted to the 
mutual advantage of both parties. The arti- 
cles exchanged were deer skins, and the furs 
of smaller animals, on the one side, and strips 
of cloth, tools, and various trinkets on the 
other, and by these means a considerable 
quantity of peltries was collected. 

Shortly after this, to the joy of all parties, 
a ship arrived with stores and reinforcements 
from England, and having on board a no less 
distinguished personage than the noble Lord of 
Baltimore. He was welcomed with an enthusi- 

28 



326 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

astic delight, and the highest honors their, 
little state could bestow. 

Nor were the Indians less pleased to hear 
of his arrival. The representations of the go- 
vernor, and the amiable conduct of his people, 
had so favorably impressed them that they 
were willing to reverence him before they had 
seen him. 

The next day a large party desired an in- 
terview with his lordship, and he was pleased 
to gratify them. They had brought with 
them many tokens of good feeling and respect, 
which they deposited before him. Some 
brought a whole deer, others a package of 
dried fish, wampum belts, tobacco, and such 
other things as valuing themselves they 
thought would be pleasing to him. They pre- 
sented their offerings with such genuine ex- 
pressions of gratitude and devoted attach- 
ment that the good Calvert was highly moved 
at his reception by these rude foresters. 

One of the chiefs then made a speech to 
him, in which he expressed on behalf of him- 
self and companions, the great joy they felt 



THE INDIANS OF ST. MARY ? S. 327 

on being permitted to behold their great fa- 
ther, t ey thanked him for the good message 
he had sent them from the first, declared their 
willingness to serve him in any manner they 
were able. 

Calvert replied in an appropriate style, of 
which they expressed their approbation by 
the wild geticulations of their own race ; he 
then invited them to a grand entertainment, 
prepared for them in the garden, at which he 
presided, with the chiefs on his right hand, 
and completely won their hearts by his dig- 
nified bearing, his sweetness of manners, and 
the interest he appeared to take in his guests. 
After the feast was over, they performed for 
his diversion a number of their national 
dances. A circle was formed, and the assu- 
rances of friendship renewed, the pipe of 
peace was then produced, and passed around 
from mouth to mouth, Baltimore, to their de- 
light, indulging in a few whiffs ; they then 
separated and returned to their places. 

Nothing could exceed the kindly interest 
this good nobleman displayed in the welfare 



328 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

of the Indians. Almost as soon as he landed 
he made himself active in their cause, the 
first business he engaged in being an inquiry 
into the treatment of the Indians. 

He professed himself highly gratified, by 
the faithful manner 1 in which his instructions 
had been carried out by the colonists, and 
commended them therefor. He immediately 
renewed and extended, all the rights and pri- 
vileges originally retained by them, and de- 
creed that all offences committed against 
them should be punished exactly as aggres- 
sions against the whites. He visited them 
in their wigwams, distributing a large quan- 
tity of valuable presents he had brought with 
him for the purpose. 

He endeavored to make himself acquainted 
with their internal arrangements, and to ob- 
serve their manners and customs, he went 
with them into the woods, to witness their 
mode of hunting and fishing, which they were 
proud to display before him, and in token of 
the esteem his conduct had won from them, 
they bestowed upon him the endearing title 



THE INDIANS OF ST. MARY'S. 329 

of "our own chief." "With the assistance of 
the good padre, the proprietor perfected many 
plans for ameliorating the condition of his 
Indian subjects, for their moral and intellec- 
tual culture, a school was at once opened, and 
thither resorted a number of children of the 
surrounding tribes. 

One day a great chieftain from beyond the 
mountains, in the most western part of the 
colony, repaired to St. Mary's, to make his 
obeisance to the proprietor, the fame of whose 
merits and condescension had reached his 
ears. He heard with wonderment, the many 
strange stories told him by his friends, who 
lived among the whites, and approached the 
palace of the governor with superstitious awe, 

Bv command of Baltimore he was received 
with as much show and parade as they could 
assume, and it seemed to have had its intended 
effect upon him ; every thing in the place at- 
tracted his attention, and called forth expres- 
sions of delight. Seeing the fondness he 
evinced for bright things, the governor pre- 
sented him with a shining pewter dish, which 

28* 



330 STOEIES OF THE INDIANS. 

lie suspended around his neck and seemed to 
regard it as a peculiar mark of honor and 
distinction. 

More settlers continued to arrive, and under 
the fostering care of Lord Baltimore, aided 
by the friendship of the Indians, the new co- 
lony in a short time became exceedingly 
flourishing and prosperous. 

Not very long after the arrival of Baltimore, 
the good priest, whom the Indians loved, con- 
tracted a fatal disease, while visiting them, 
and in a short time died, deeply lamented by 
both his white and red friends. To testify 
their respect for him, they attended his fune- 
ral in a body, and looked on with a tearful eye, 
while the remains of their friend were lowered 
in the grave. When the funeral service was 
over, one of them stepped forth, and in an 
appropriate speech, signified to the governor 
their sincere sorrow and condolence in the 
loss which both parties had sustained. 

They then retired to their lodges, where a 
solemn fast and lamentation for the dead was 
held, the squaws beating their breasts and 



THE INDIANS OF ST. MARY 7 S. 



331 



tearing their hair in a frantic manner, while 
the men sat around in solemn and dignified 
silence. 

Thus happily were the seeds of the future 
commonwealth of Maryland planted; thus 
kindly and considerately were the natives 
treated, and nobly did they repay it, in the 
peace, good-feeling, and fellowship they long 
entertained for the settlers- 




^f \^^^>3^ 




RED JACKET. 

(HE famous Red Jacket 
was a chief of the Se- 
necas. His Indian 
name, Sagouatha, or, 
one who keeps awake, 
was affixed to many 
of the important trea- 
ties concluded between 

the Senecas and the white people, and he 
(332) 




RED JACKET. 333 

became renowned among both races for his 
wisdom and eloquence. Without the advan- 
tages of illustrious descent, and with no ex- 
traordinary military talents, Red Jacket rose 
to a high position in the esteem of the red 
men. In the year 1805, a council was held 
at Buffalo, New York, at which many of the 
Seneca chiefs and warriors were present. At 
this council, Red Jacket made a speech, in 
answer to a missionary from Massachusetts, 
which in force and eloquence was worthy of 
the great orators of antiquity. The follow- 
ing is the most remarkable portion of this 
great effort : 

" Friend and Brother : It was the will of 
the Great Spirit tha<i we should meet together 
this day. He orders all things, and he has 
given us a fine day for our council. He has 
taken his garment from before the sun, and 
caused it to shine with brightness upon us ; 
our eyes are opened, that we see clearly ; our 
ears are unstopped, that we have been able 
to hear distinctly the words that you have 



834 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

spoken; for all these favors we thank the 
Great Spirit, and him only. 

"Brother, this council-fire was kindled by 
you ; it was at your request that we came to- 
gether at this time ; we have listened with 
attention to what you have said ; you request 
us to speak our minds freely ; this gives us 
great joy, for we now consider that we stand 
upright before you, and can speak what we 
think ; all have heard your voice, and all 
speak to you as one man; our minds are 
agreed. 

" Brother, you say you want an answer to 
your talk before you leave this place. It is 
right you should have one, as you are a great 
distance from home, and we do not wish to 
detain you ; but we will first look back a little, 
and tell you what our fathers have told us, 
and what we have heard from the white people. 

" Brother, listen to what I say. There was 
a time when our forefathers owned this great 
island. Their seats extended from the rising 
to the setting sun. The Great Spirit had 
made it for the use of Indians. He had 



BED JACKET, 335 

created the buffalo, the deer, and other ani- 
mals for food. He made the bear, and the 
beaver, and their skins served us for clothing. 
He had scattered them over the country, and 
taught us how to take them. He had caused 
the earth to produce corn for bread. All this 
he had done for his red children because he 
loved them. If we had any disputes about 
hunting-grounds, they were generally settled 
without the shedding of much blood : but an 
evil day came upon us: your forefathers 
crossed the great waters, and landed on this 
island. Their numbers were small; they 
found friends, and not enemies ; they told us 
they had fled from their own country for fear 
of wicked men, and come here to enjoy their 
religion. They asked, for a small seat; we 
took pity on them, granted their request, and 
they sat down amongst us; we gave them 
corn and meat ; they gave us poison in return. 
The white people had now found our country, 
tidings were carried back, and more came 
amongst us ; yet we did not fear them, we 
took them to be friends ; they called us bro- 



336 STOKIES OF THE INDIANS. 

thers; we believed them, and gave them a 
larger seat. At length their numbers had 
greatly increased ; they wanted more land ; 
they wanted our country. Our eyes were 
opened, and our minds became uneasy. "Wars 
took place ; Indians were hired to fight against 
Indians, and many of our people were de- 
stroyed. They also brought strong liquors 
among us : it was strong and powerful, and 
has slain thousands." 

The effect of this speech was such that the 
missionaries who had called the council, were 
forced to give up all attempts at making con- 
verts among the Senecas. Red Jacket took 
part with the Americans in the war of 1812, 
and on all occasions displayed a cool and de- 
liberate bravery, which contrasted well with 
the rashness of Tecumseh and other great 
chiefs. He became attached to some of the 
American officers, and after the war regretted 
much to part with them. 

Like Tecumseh, Red Jacket made a skilful 
use of superstition to obtain an influence over 
his tribe. Having, in some way, lost the con- 




COUNCIL OF INDIANS. 



RED JACKET. 339 

fidence of his red brethren, he prevailed upon 
his brother to announce himself a prophet, 
commissioned by the Great Spirit to restore 
his countrymen to their lost land and power, 
By skilful reasoning, Eed Jacket persuaded 
the superstitious Indians to believe in his 
brother's infallibility. Good resulted from 
this deception. The Onondagas were at that 
period the most drunken and profligate of the 
Iroquois. They w r ere now persuaded to abstain 
from ardent spirits, became sober and indus- 
trious, and observed and obeyed the laws of 
morality. But the imposture was at length 
exposed by the extremes into w T hich it led 
many of the red men. Many were denounced 
as possessed by evil spirits, and would have 
been burned by the superstitious, if the whites 
had not interfered. 

In a council of Indians held at Buffalo creek, 
Eed Jacket w r as denounced as the author of 
these troubles, and brought to trial ; but his 
eloquence saved his life and greatly increased 
his fame. In a speech of three hours' length, 
he completely overthrew the accusations of 



840 . STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

his enemies, and was triumphantly acquitted. 
This was one of the most remarkable displays 
of eloquence to be found in history. 

Many anecdotes are related of Eed Jacket, 
which illustrated his qualities of head and 
heart. When at Washington he visited the 
rotunda of the capitol, and was shown the 
panel which represented the first landing of 
the pilgrims at Plymouth, with an Indian 
chief presenting them with an ear of corn, in 
token of welcome. Red Jacket said, " That 
was good ; he knew they came from the Great 
Spirit, and was willing to share the soil with 
his brothers." But when he turned to view 
another panel, representing Penn's Treaty, he 
said, "Ah! all's gone now!" These few 
words expressed a deal of truth and a feeling 
of regret. 

When Lafayette was at Buffalo, in 1825, 
among those who called upon him was Red 
Jacket, who resided near that town, and by 
years and intemperance had been much worn 
down. He remembered Lafayette, having 
seen him at an Indian council held at Fort 



RED JACKET. 341 

Schuyler, 1784. He asked the general if he 
recollected that meeting. The general replied 
that he had not forgotten it, and asked Eed 
Jacket if he knew what had become of the 
young chief, who, in that council, opposed 
with such eloquence the burying of the toma- 
hawk. Eed Jacket replied, " He stands before 
yoiiV* The general observed that time had 
much changed them since that meeting. "Ah," 
said Eed Jacket, " time has not been so severe 
upon you as it has upon me. It has left you 
a fresh countenance, and hair to cover your 
head; while to me — behold!" And taking 
a handkerchief from his head, he showed that 
it was entirely bald. 

Eed Jacket always opposed the introduc- 
tion of missionaries among his people, and 
with a force of reasoning, the white agents 
could not resist. He believed that the whites 
should first practice the virtues they preached 
to the red men ; and he had seen too much 
evil follow in the white man's steps to wish 
his men to tread the same path. 

Not long before his death, Eed Jacket was 
29* 



342 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

visited by Mr. Catlin, the celebrated author 
of a most complete work upon the Indians of 
North America. He then resided near Buf- 
falo, and was the head chief of all the remain- 
ing Iroquois. Mr. Catlin painted his portrait, 
and represented him as he wished, standing 
on the Table Rock, at the Falls of Niagara ; 
about which place he thought his spirit would 
linger after his death. Red Jacket died in 
1836. A handsome and appropriate monu- 
ment was erected over his grave, by Mr. Henry 
Placide, the comedian; and more lasting 
monuments, in historical form, have been 
written by distinguished authors. As an 
orator, this gifted chief was equal to any of 
modern times. His speeches display the 
greatest sagacity and sublimity of ideas, with 
the greatest forCe and condensation of ex- 
pression. His gestures while speaking are 
said to have been singularly significant; and 
the features of h^ face, particularly his pierc- 
ing eyes, full of expression. He was in truth, 
a "forest-born Demosthenes." 




MR. CATLIN. 




WEATHERFORD. 

EATHERFORD was the 
principal chief of the 
Creeks^ during the war 
in which the power of 
that nation was broken 
and destroyed by Gene- 
ral Jackson. In his cha- 
racter was found that union of great virtues 

(345) 




346 STORIES OF THE INDIAKS. 

and vices which has made up the character 
of many celebrated men among civilized na- 
tions. With avarice, treachery, lust, gluttony, 
and a thirst for blood, nature gave Weather- 
ford, genius, eloquence, and courage. Seldom 
has an Indian appeared, more capable of 
planning and executing great designs. His 
judgment and eloquence secured him the re- 
spect of the old ; his vices made him the idol 
of the young and unprincipled. In his person, 
he was tall, straight, and well proportioned ; 
his eyes black, lively, and piercing ; his nose 
aquiline and thin ; while all the features of 
his face, harmoniously arranged, spoke an 
active and disciplined mind. 

It was Weatherford's talents and deter- 
mined spirit which prolonged the war against 
the whites, which began in August, 1813. 
When the power of the Creeks had been 
broken, and great numbers of them had fallen, 
many of their chiefs and warriors came to 
General Jackson, and surrendered themselves 
prisoners. Weatherford, with a few followers, 
boldlv maintained his hostile attitude. Ge- 




GENERAL JACKSON, 



WEATHERFORD. 349 

neral Jackson, to test the fidelity of those 
chiefs who submitted, ordered them to deliver, 
without delay, Weatherford, bound, into his 
hands, that he might be dealt with as he de- 
served. The warriors made known to Weather- 
ford what was required of them. His noble 
spirit would not submit to such degradation ; 
and he resolved to yield himself without 
compulsion. 

Accordingly, Weatherford proceeded to the 
American camp, unknown, and under some 
pretence, was admitted to the presence of the 
commanding general. He then boldly said : 
" I am Weatherford, the chief who commanded 
at Fort Mimms. I desire peace for my people, 
and have come to ask it." Jackson was sur- 
prised that he should venture to appear in 
his presence, and told him, for his inhuman 
conduct at Fort Mimms, he well deserved to 
die; that he had ordered him to be brought 
to the camp, bound, and had he been so 
bound, he would have been treated as he 
deserved. To this Weatherford replied : 

" I am in your power — do with me as you 

30 



350 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

please. I am a soldier. I have done the 
white people all the harm I could. I have 
fought them and fought them bravely. If I 
had an army, I would yet fight ; I would con- 
tend to the last. But I have none. My 
people are all gone. I can only weep over 
the misfortunes of my nation. " 

General Jackson was pleased with his bold- 
ness, and told him that, though he was in 
his power, yet he would take no advantage ; 
that he might yet join the war party, and 
contend against the Americans, if he chose, 
but to depend upon no quarter if taken after- 
ward ; and that unconditional submission 
was his and his people's only safety. "Wea- 
therford^ rejoined in a tone as dignified as it 
was indignant, — " You can safely address me 
in such terms now. There was a time when 
I could have answered you — there was a time 
when I had a choice — I have none now. I 
have not even a hope. I could once animate 
my warriors to battle — but I cannot animate 
the dead. My warriors can no longer hear 
my voice. Their bones are at Tallahega, 




THE MASSACRE OF FOET MIMMS. 



WEATIIERFOIID. 353 

Tallushatchee, Einuckfaw, and Tokopeka. I 
have not surrendered myself without thought- 
While there was a single chance of success, I 
never left my post, nor supplicated peace, But 
my people are gone, and I now ask it for my 
nation, not for myself. I look back with deep 
sorrow, and w r ish to avert still greater cala- 
mities. If I had been left to contend with the 
Georgia army, I would have raised my corn 
on one bank of the river, and fought them on 
the other. But your people have destroyed 
my nation. Tou are a brave man. I rely 
upon your generosity. Tou will exact no 
terms of a conquered people, but such as they 
should accede to. Whatever they may be, 
it would now be madness and folly to oppose 
them. If they are opposed, you shall find 
me amongst the sternest enforcers of obedi- 
ence. Those who would still hold out, can 
be influenced only by a mean spirit of revenge. 
To this they must not, and shall not sacrifice 
the last remnant of their country. Tou have 
told our nation where we might go and be 

30* 



354 STORIES OP THE INDIANS. 

safe. This is good talk, and they ought to 
listen to it. They shall listen to it." 

The treaty concluded between the Creeks 
and the whites was faithfully observed by the 
former, and Weatherford's conduct proved, 
that he could be a warm friend if conciliated, 
as well as a formidable and determined foe 
in war. Passionately fond of wealth, he ap- 
propriated to himself a fine tract of land, im- 
proved and settled it. To this he retired oc- 
casionally, and relaxed from the cares of his 
government, indulging in pleasures, censur- 
able and often disgusting. The character of 
this chief reminds us of some of the old Eo- 
man heroes and politicians. The same genius, 
activity, ambition, and love of vicious plea- 
sures belonged to those Caesars and Antonys 
who have received more historical encomiums 
than is rightfully their due. 





PAUGUS AND HIS FAMILY. 




THE BATTLE OF SACO POND. 



a! 



event is oftener men- 
tioned in New England 
story than the memor- 
able fight between the 
English and Indians, at 
Saco Pond. The cruel 
and barbarous murders 
most daily committed upon the inhabitants 

(357) 




358 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

of the frontier settlements, caused the general 
court of Massachusetts to offer a bountv of 
£100 for every Indian's scalp. This reward 
induced Captain John Lovewell to raise a 
volunteer company, and make excursions into 
the Indian country for scalps. He was very 
successful and returned to Boston with scalps 
for which he received £1000. 

The Indians, however continued their de- 
predations, and the Pequawkets, under the 
terrible chief, Paugus, especially distinguished 
themselves for their frequent predatory incur- 
sions. About the middle of April, 1725, 
Captain Lovewell, with forty-six men, marched 
on an expedition against Paugus. The party 
arrived near the place where they expected 
to find the Indians, on the 7th of May; and 
and early the next morning, while at prayers, 
heard a gun, supposed to be fired by one of 
the Indians, and immediately prepared for 
the encounter. Divesting themselves of their 
packs, they marched forward, but in an op- 
posite direction from where the Indians were 
posted. 



THE BATTLE OF SACO POND. 359 

This mistake gave Paugus an advantage. 
He followed the track of the English, fell in 
with their packs, and learned their numbers. 
Encouraged by superiority, he having eighty 
men with him, he pursued the English, and 
courted a contest. .Lovewell, after marching 
a considerable distance, during which time 
he took one scalp, and was mortally wounded 
by the last fire of the Indian who had been 
scalped, ordered his men to return for their 
packs. The wary Paugus expected this, and 
lay in ambush to cut them off. When the 
English were completely encircled, the In- 
dians rose from the coverts, and advanced to- 
wards them with arms presented. They ex- 
pected the English to surrender to their supe- 
rior force, and accordingly threw away their 
first fire. But Lovewell, though wounded, 
led on his men to the attack. The Indians 
were driven back several rods, and many 
killed and wounded. But they soon returned 
and attacked their white foes vigorously; 
killed Lovewell and eight men, and wounded 
three others. The English then retreated to 



360 STOEIES OF THE INDIANS. 

the shore of Saco Pond, so as to prevent their 
being surrounded. The banks afforded a kind 
of breastwork, behind which they maintained 
the contest until night, when the Indians 
drew off and they saw no more of them. Only 
nine of the English escaped unhurt, though 
several that were wounded lived to return to 
Dunstable. 

Paugus was killed in the course of the 
fight by one John Chamberlain, a noted hunter. 
It is said that they both came to the shore 
of the pond to quench their thirst, when the 
encounter took place, in which Paugus was 
shot through the heart. 

A son of the chief, after peace was restored, 
came to Dunstable, to revenge his father's 
death, by killing Chamberlain ; but not going 
directly to him his design was suspected by 
some one, and communicated to the intended 
victim, who kept himself upon his guard, and 
had a hole cut through the door of his house. 
Through this hole, Chamberlain one morning 
discovered an Indian, behind a pile of wood, 
with his gun pointed toward the door. Mak- 



THE BATTLE OF SACO POND. 361 

ing use of his advantage, he fired upon and 
killed the son of Paugus. 

In the ballad, in which the events of Love- 
weirs fight are commemorated, we find some 
singular details of the escape of the wounded 
white men. Solomon Keyes, having received 
three wounds, said he would hide himself and 
die secretly, so that the Indians could not get 
his scalp. As he crawled upon the shore of the 
pond, a short distance from the battle-ground, 
he found a canoe, into which he rolled him- 
self, and was drifted away by the wind. To 
his astonishment, he was cast ashore near 
Fort Ossippee, to which he crawled, and there 
found several of his companions, with whom 
he returned home. The most of those who 
escaped did not leave the battle-ground till 
near midnight. When they arrived at the 
fort, they expected to find refreshment, and 
the few men they had left in reserve. But a 
deserter had so frightened the men left in 
the fort, that they fled in dismay towards 
Dunstable. 

Fifty New Hampshire volunteers afterwards 

31 



362 STOEIES OF THE INDIANS. 

marched to the scene of action, and buried 
the dead. They found but three Indians, one 
of whom was Paugus. The remainder were 
supposed to have been taken away when they 
retreated. The pond, on the banks of which 
the battle was fought, has ever since received 
the name of LovewelFs Pond. Some rural 
Homer, the author of the ballad to which we 
have alluded, thus pathetically concludes his 
narrative : 

Ah, many a wife shall rend her hair, 
And many a child cry, " Woe is me," 
When messengers the news shall bear, 
Of LovewelFs dear-bought victory. 

With footsteps slow shall travellers go, 
Where LovewelFs pond shines clear and bright, 
And mark the place where those are laid, 
Who fell in LovewelFs bloody fight. 

Old men shall shake their heads, and say, 
Sad was the hour and terrible, 
When Lovewell, brave, 'gainst Paugus went, 
With fifty men from Dunstable. 




<7 
WINGItfA. 

INGINA was the first chief 
known to the English settlers 
of Virginia. The voyagers, 
Amidas and Barlow, sent out 
by Sir Walter Raleigh, in the 
summer of 1581, landed upon the island of 
Wokoken, adjacent to Virginia. They saw 

31* (365) 




366 STOHIES OF THE INDIANS. 

several of the natives, and made them presents. 
Wingina was at this time confined in his 
cabin, from wounds received in battle, and 
did not see the English. He had not much 
faith in their good intentions, and would not 
trust them far. 

Soon after the return of Amidas and Barlow 
to England, Sir Eichard Grenville intruded 
upon the territories of Wingina. It was he 
who committed the first outrage upon the 
natives, which excited their constant and 
deadly hostility. He made one short excur- 
sion into the country, during which, to re- 
venge the loss of a silver cup, which had been 
stolen by an Indian, he burned a town. 
Grenville left one hundred and eight men to 
found a settlement on the island of Koanoke, 
and appointed Kalph Lane, governor. The 
English made several excursions into the 
country, in hopes of discovering mines of pre- 
cious metal, of which the Indians, to delude 
them, spoke, and encouraged them to seek. 

Wingina bore the insults and provocations 
of the intruders, until the death of the old 



WINGINA. 367 

chief, Ensenore, his father. "Under pretence 
of honoring his funeral, he assembled eighteen 
hundred of his warriors, with the intent, as 
the English say, of destroying them^ The 
English were informed of the deadly design, 
by Skiko, the son of the chief Menatonon ; 
and Governor Lane resolved to anticipate it. 
Upon a given signal, his men attacked the 
natives on the island where Wingina lived, 
having secured the canoes to prevent their 
escape. But five or six of the Indians were 
killed, and the rest escaped to the woods, 
where Lane knew it would be dangerous to 
follow them. 

This attack was the signal for the com- 
mencement of hostilities. The English were 
few in number, but their skill and bravery in 
war was well known to the red men, and they 
dreaded them, as if they had been superior 
in number. Lane aimed at securing the per- 
son of "Wingina, and thus striking terror into 
his people; and accordingly watched every 
opportunity to gain information of his w* 
ibouts. At length he ascertained that 



368 STORIES OP THE INDIANS. 

chief had not been able to escape from the 
island, and that with a number of his chiefs 
and warriors, he was lurking in the forests of 
the island which was his capital. The En- 
glish captain taking with him about one half 
of his men, placed them in ambush near the 
spot which "Wingina frequented daily. It was 
the burial place of his father, and the chief, 
with a few companions, came there to give 
himself to weeping and mournful reflection. 

The English had little consideration for the 
place or the purpose of the chief's visit. 
"When they saw he was fairly within their 
power, they rushed from their concealment, 
and before the chief and his warriors could 
recover from their surprise and attempt to 
escape, shot them down. Lane then returned 
to the remainder of his men. The bodies of 
Wingina and his braves were found by his 
people, attracted to the spot by the report of 
the fire-arms ; and for a time, it seemed as 
if the desire of revenge would induce them to 
follow the English and attack them. But the 
wiser portion of them, knowing the advantage 



WINGINA. 



369 



which the English possessed in the use of 
fire-arms, restrained them. But Lane was 
not suffered to remain quiet in the enjoy- 
ment of his triumph. Conspiracies were de- 
tected in various quarters, and finally, the 
Indians compelled the whole English party 
to return to Europe. "We cannot wonder at 
the rooted enmity to the whites which the 
Indians afterwards displayed. Not content 
with invading and taking possession of the 
country, the early visitors from England 
burned the towns and murdered the natives 
upon the slightest provocation. Early im- 
pressions are most lasting, and what could 
the English expect after giving the red men 
such an idea of their character ? 





A SCENE ON THE SCHUYLKILL. 



HAEOLD DEAN; OE, THE INDIAN'S 
EEYENGE. 

HE Indian ever regards 
the constant pursuit of 
revenge for an injury 
an evidence of a high 
character. Instances 
are many, in which 
years have intervened 
between a revengeful 
resolve, and the favor- 
able opportunity, yet no sign of relenting 
would be found in the injured one. Such a 
(370) 




HAROLD DEAN. 371 

disposition is natural to those who are taught 
to look on war as the chief business of life, 
and mercy to foes as despicable weakness. 
The following narrative will illustrate this 
feature of the Indian character. 

About the period of the first settlement of 
the disciples of George Fox, on the banks of 
the Delaware, a party of young men, of re- 
spectable families, filled with the hopes ex- 
cited by the glowing accounts of the new 
country, and having a love of adventure which 
could not be gratified in their thickly settled 
and strictly governed native land, resolved to 
come to America ; and putting their resolve 
in execution, they arrived on the banks of 
the Delaware. The reasons for their preferring 
to visit Penn's settlement were very pardon- 
able. Although they loved adventure, they 
preferred to seek it where the red men were 
least disposed to use the hatchet and scalp- 
ing knife, and where there was the clearest 
prospect of making a good settlement if they 
felt so disposed. 

The party consisted of six young gentlemen 



372 STOKIES OF THE INDIANS. 

of the average age of twenty-two years. Their 
names were Harold Dean, George Sanford, 
William Murdstone, James Ballybarn, Richard 
Gwynne, and Morton Williams. The first was 
a daring, quick, and restless spirit, and by 
general consent the leader of the party. He 
was a winning companion, but selfish, and 
seemed to have cut loose from all moral prin- 
ciple. The character of the others contained 
no extraordinary features. They were all 
possessed of good intentions, and a consider- 
able degree of intelligence ; but being des- 
titute of that activity and force of will which 
belonged to the character of Harold Dean. 

The young men arrived in Penn's settle- 
ment, as we have said, and being well pro- 
vided with all the necessaries of a hunter's 
life, resolved to build some cabins on the 
the banks of the beautiful Schuylkill. But 
first, Harold Dean succeeded in making the 
acquaintance of the neighboring Indians, 
hese red men belonged to the great tribe, 
rhich the English named the Delawares. 
fhey, however, called themselves the Leni 



HAROLD DEAN. 373 

Lenape. They were generally well disposed 
towards the whites, on account of the honor- 
able and peaceful conduct of the founder of 
the settlement, and received the young En- 
glishmen with every testimonial of friendship 
and respect The chiefs assured the young 
men that they might build their cabins and 
hunt without the fear of being disturbed by 
the red men. 

Accordingly, Dean selected a high bank, 
rocky and castellated at the water's side, and 
bare of trees for a considerable distance in- 
land, for the site of two cabins. The labor 
of building log cabins was novel to the young 
men.. Yet, though difficult, its novelty and 
romantic character made it pleasing. James 
Ballybarn was a regularly taught carpenter 
and joiner, and his knowledge was brought 
into use. Dean planned the cabins in the 
simplest but most comfortable manner, 
and all hands worked hard at cutting 
down trees and hewing them into the proper 
size and form. While the cabins were pre- 
paring, the young pioneers slept in a rude 

32 



374 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

hut constructed of their chests and tools, and 
covered with the boughs of small trees. 

The cabins were finished, much to the gra- 
tification of the workmen. They stood within 
about five yards of each other, and presented 
quite a fine appearance, amid the solitude of 
the wilderness. Each one was occupied by 
three young men. By the aid of a friendly 
Delaware, two canoes were also constructed 
in the usual Indian style by hollowing out 
the trunks of large trees. And now the real 
.hardships of the hunter's life were to be en- 
dured ; and though our young pioneers suc- 
ceeded very well for beginners, supplying 
themselves with food, and skins for sale, yet 
the labor was more difficult than they had 
expected. One or two began to compare 
their situation with what it had been in En- 
gland, and the result of the comparison was 
by no means favorable to their remaining in 
the wilderness. But Harold Dean had fallen 
in love with the hunter's life. It offered 
plenty of exciting occupation to his quick and 
daring spirit ; and he forgot friends and re- 



HAROLD DEAN. 375 

lations at home. His influence over his com- 
panions was undisputed. He had a love of 
being first in every thing, and never spared 
labor to make himself such. His companions 
submitted to his lead, and after a little argu- 
ment, were persuaded that there was no life 
like a hunter's. 

The party had become very intimate with 
the Indians, and Harold Dean especially was 
a general favorite among them. He had cul- 
tivated the friendship of a young Indian 
hunter, named Pakanke. Pakanke was brave, 
adventurous, and skilled in all the mysteries 
of w r oodcraft. He instructed Harold Dean in 
that art, which was to him so necessary, and 
joined the young Englishmen in many a 
hunting excursion. 

But other attractions induced Harold to 
seek the company of Pakanke, and frequently 
to spend a day at his wdgw 7 am. The Indian 
hunter had a sister, who was one of the most 
beautiful young women of her tribe, and de- 
cidedly the most intelligent. Her father had 
been killed in battle, and her brother was 



376 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

necessarily her guardian. Many of the young 
Delawares, foremost in war and the chase, 
coveted the beautiful Narramattah, but she 
had refused to share the wigwam of the 
bravest. Harold Dean met her at the cabin 
of her brother, and was charmed with her ap- 
pearance and manners. His fine person and 
winning attentions also captivated the guile- 
less maid. Pakanke regarded the growing 
attachment of his English friend and sister 
with undisguised pleasure, and did all in his 
power to increase it. 

Harold's friends were now frequently de- 
prived of his company, yet as he told them 
of the beauties of the sister of Pakanke, they 
guessed the reason and readily excused him. 
But was it a fact that Harold loved Narra- 
mattah? That she loved him there could 
not be a doubt ; she was never happier than 
when in his presence, and she told him that 
he had became her Manito, or idol. Harold 
admired her — that he confessed to himself. 
But he laughed to scorn the assertions of his 
friends that he really loved an Indian girl. 



HAROLD DEAN. 377 

At length the precise state of his feelings was 
divulged. Eichard Gwynne rallied him one 
evening, after the return from the day's hunt- 
ing, upon being captivated by a dusky forest 
beauty. 

"Pshaw!" replied Harold, with a con- 
temptuous expression of features, " Gwynne, 
have you no idea of whiling away the time with 
women, apart from falling in love with them ? 
Tou are completely fresh. I love an ignorant 
savage ! I have known too many of the in- 
telligent and enchanting girls of merry old 
England, to be so foolish. Ill beguile the 
time with this JSTarramattah, but could not 
for a moment think of loving her, or of going 
through the Indian sanction of a marriage 
ceremony. 

So saying, Harold turned away from 
Gwynne, and entered the cabin. But what 
he had said had struck one ear and touched 
one heart for which it was not intended. Pa- 
kanke had parted from Harold a moment be- 
fore Gwynne had spoken to him, and hearing 
his sister's name mentioned, had checked his 

32* 



378 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

pace to hear what was said of her. Eaves- 
dropping is a vice practised by the untutored 
children of the forest as well as by civilized 
men, and it is sometimes pardonable. Pa- 
kanke understood sufficient English to com- 
prehend that Harold Dean was confessing 
that he was trifling with Narramattah's love, 
and never intended to marry her. In an in- 
stant, all his esteem and friendship for the 
young Englishman had turned to the gall of 
hatred and revenge. He at first thought of 
seeking him at once, and demanding redress 
for the insult offered to his family and race. 
But reining his passion, he resolved to wait 
a more promising opportunity. 

The next day, Harold Dean and Pakanke 
went upon the hunt together, and the Indian 
took the earliest occasion, when they were 
alone, to explain to the Englishman the ex- 
tent of his sister's affection for him, and to 
demand that he should marry her. Harold 
endeavored to soothe the indignant feelings 
of the red man, and told him that he could 
love J\i« sister, but could not marry her, as 



HAROLD DEAN. 379 

he had a wife already in England. Pakanke 
told him that he was deceitful ; that he was 
a snake, whose bright colors lured simple 
maidens near that he might sting them ; that 
he had seemed a friend, but to be a more 
deadly foe ; and that he should marry Narra- 
mattah, or feel that the red man can revenge 
an insult as he can repay a kindness. He 
concluded in these forcible words : " Take to 
your wigwam, pale face, the maiden you have 
loved ; keep and take care of the wild flower 
which you have sought and trained to await 
your coming, or the big wind shall hurl you 
to the earth!" 

Harold evaded the demand, and finally in- 
duced the young Indian to wait until the 
next day, when they should see Narramattah 
together, and then he would decide. But the 
deceitful Englishman did not intend to see 
the maiden, he had wronged, again. It was 
a mere ruse to escape the Indian's vengeance 
for a time. The next day, when Pakanke 
came for Harold he was not to be found at 
the cabin ; and Pakanka ^turned to JNTarra- 



380 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

mattah, to tell her of her wrongs, and his 
burning resolve to revenge them. The poor, 
trusting forest maiden seemed as if struck 
speechless by the information that Harold 
had fled, after declaring that he never in- 
tended to take her to his wigwam. The wild 
flower was crushed by the ruthless blast; 
and her mind, unable to withstand the shock, 
became distracted. When Pakanke arose in 
the morning, his sister was gone. He searched 
eagerly every where in the neighborhood of the 
village for her, but in vain. At length news 
was brought him that Narramattah's mangled 
body had been found at the foot of a high 
precipice, near the Wissahicon creek. He 
hurried to the spot, and found the informa- 
tion true. The distracted girl had either 
thrown herself from the precipice, or acci- 
dentally fallen from it in her wanderings. 
Pakanke paused to drop the few tears of grief 
forced from his eyes; and then, over his 
sister's body, bade the Great Spirit mark his 
vow, never to rest until the murderer of his 
sister had met the fate he deserved. The 



HAROLD DEAN. 381 

body of Narramattah was given to her friends 
to be placed in the cold grave near her father ; 
and many were the tears shed for her un- 
happy fate, by the Delaware women. 

Pakanke, alone, again sought the cabins 
of the Englishmen, and this time, he found 
the object of his search. Harold Dean, cal- 
culating the exact time of Pakanke' s visit on 
the day before, had gone with his friends on 
a hunting expedition far into the country, 
and had returned with them to the cabins 
just before Pakanke arrived. He calculated 
that the Indian would be satisfied with any 
trifling excuse invented for the occasion, and 
did not dream that the affair had reached a 
tragic crisis. Pakanke' s appearance in the 
cabin surprised him. The Indian was unu- 
sually calm and collected, and betrayed no 
sign of any but the most peaceable intentions. 
He said he came for Harold to fulfil his pro- 
mise to accompany him to the wigwam ; and 
finding there could be no further evasion, 
Harold consented to accompany him. 

The two hunters left the cabins and pro- 



382 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

ceeded through the woods, as Harold thought,, 
towards the Delaware village, but as Pakanke 
knew, in a different direction. They spoke 
occasionally, concerning hunting and the 
game of the season; but the Indian was 
afraid to trust himself to many words, and 
Harold was meditating some plan of escape 
from the proposed marriage. At length they 
approached what seemed to be a deep ravine, 
and Harold's eye wandered around for the 
best place for crossing. They were nearing 
the high, overhanging precipice, and Pakanke 
knew it. " This is the best crossing," said 
he to Harold, as they approached the tree- 
covered edge of the rock from which Narra- 
mattah had thrown herself, or fallen. " This 
is rather a disagreeable path, I think," said 
Harold, as he looked over to the opposite 
bank of the creek. "It leads to thy grave !" 
shrieked Pakanke, as, with an effort, made 
giant strong by passion, he snatched Harold's 
rifle, stabbed him in the back, and hurled 
him from the rock. Then he leaned over its 
edge to look down. The rock was about one 



HAROLD DEAN. 383 

hundred feet high, and its top projected far 
beyond its base. Harold shrieked as he was 
thrown from the rock, but all was soon over. 
Pakanke saw, as he leaned over the edge, 
that his victim had been literally dashed to 
pieces ; and a smile of gratified revenge ap- 
peared upon his lips as he turned away to 
descend to the spot, to secure the scalp. Af- 
ter this customary trophy from a conquered 
foe had been obtained, Pakanke returned to 
the Delaware village, and gladdened the ears 
of the chiefs and warriors with the circum- 
stances of his exploit. He then sent infor- 
mation of it to Harold's friends, accompanied 
with an assurance that if they were snakes 
they would be served in the same way, but if 
friends, they would not be disturbed. 

The terrible death of Harold appalled the 
young Englishmen, and they were so mis- 
trustful of the good intentions of the red men, 
that they unanimously resolved to quit the 
vicinity and return to the settlement at once. 
Accordingly, the most valuable of their skins 
and all their necessary articles of clothing, 



384 



STOKIES OF THE INDIANS. 



and their fire-arms, were packed up, the ca- 
bins set on fire, and they set out for the set- 
tlement. Two of them remained in Philadel- 
phia, the others returned to England, and 
conveyed the news of the death of Harold 
Dean to his parents. They were not discon- 
solate, although they wept for him. He had 
always been a wild spirit and a bad son, and 
his treachery to poor Narramattah was but 
one additional item in a catalogue of such 
deeds, which had made his fame ignoble in 
England. 





CHOCTAW WARRIORS AND WOMAN, 




BIENVILLE'S EXPEDITION AGAINST 
THE CHICKASAWS. 

FTER the destruction of the power 
of the Natchez Indians, by the 
French, in 1731, the remnant of 
that nation took refuge among the 
powerful and ferocious tribe of Chickasaws, 
who were the determined and uncompromis- 
ing enemies of the colonists of Louisiana. The 
united nations could bring a large and effi- 

(387) 




388 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

cient force into the field ; and besides, they 
had five strong palisaded forts, and many 
fortified villages. Bienville, governor of 
Louisiana, could only command about three 
hundred Frenchmen at the commencement of 
the war ; but the Choctaws were his allies, 
and although not the best and bravest of 
warriors, their aid was valuable. A desultory 
warfare was carried on until early in 1736, 
when the French government sent additional 
troops to Bienville, and ordered him to un- 
dertake an expedition against the Chickasaws. 
In obedience to these instructions, Bien- 
ville had sent word to the younger D'Arta- 
guette, the commander of the Illinois district, 
to collect all the French and Indian forces he 
could control, and to meet him on the 31st of 
March, 1736, at the Chickasaw villages. In 
the month of January of that year, Bienville 
drew from Natchez, Natchitoches, and the 
Balize all the officers and soldiers he could 
muster, without weakening too much the gar- 
risons stationed at those places. He formed 
a company of volunteers, composed of traders 



Bienville's expedition. 389 

and transient persons then in New Orleans, 
and another company of unmarried men be- 
longing to the city, and which was called the 
" company of bachelors." A depot of ammu- 
nition, provisions, and all that was necessary 
for the intended campaign was established 
on the Tombigbee, at the distance of two 
hundred and seventy miles from Mobile, where 
the several detachments of the army were 
sent, through the Lakes, as fast as convey- 
ances could be procured. Several large vessels 
containing provisions and utensils of every 
sort were despatched down the Mississippi to 
Mobile, and on the 4th of March, Bienville 
departed from New Orleans, leaving behind 
him only four companies of regulars under 
Noyan, which were to follow him as soon as 
they could be transported. The boats having 
to struggle against adverse winds, the whole 
of the French forces did not reach Mobile be- 
fore the 22d, and it was only on the 28th, 
that the last of the vessels carrying provisions 
entered the harbor, when it was discovered 
that her cargo had been much damaged by 

33* 



390 STORIES OP THE INDIANS. 

the sea. On the 1st of April, the expedition 
left Mobile, and it was only on the 23d that 
the army reached the Tombigbee depot, after 
having had to contend against currents, 
freshets, storms, and constant rains. 

"While waiting for the arrival of the Choc- 
taws, Bienville reviewed his troops, and found 
them to consist of five hundred and forty-four 
white men, excluding the officers, forty-five 
negroes, and a body of Indians. At length 
six hundred Choctaw warriors arrived, and 
the army resumed its march. On the 22d 
of May, it encamped about twenty-seven miles 
from the Chickasaw villages. On the 23d, 
Bienville ordered fortifications to be con- 
structed for the protection of his boats, and 
placed twenty men under Captain Yanderck 
in them. The next day, the army with pro- 
visions for twelve days, marched six miles 
further, and encamped on account of a tem- 
pest. On the 25th, within the space of twelve 
miles, the army had to cross three deep ra- 
vines running through a thick cane-brake, 
and had to wade through water rising up to 



bienville's expedition. 391 

the waist. It then emerged on a beautiful 
open prairie, on the edge of which they en- 
camped, at the distance of six miles from the 
Chickasaw villages. 

The intention of Bienville was to turn 
round those villages of the Chickasaws to 
march upon the village of the Natchez, which 
was in the rear, and to attack first those 
whom he considered as the instigators of the 
Chickasaw war. But the Choctaws insisted 
with such pertinacity upon attacking the vil- 
lages which were nearer, and which, they 
said contained more provisions than that of 
the Natchez, and they represented with such 
warmth, that, in the needy condition in which 
they were, it was absolutely necessary they 
should take possession of these provisions, 
that Bienville yielded to their importunities. 
The prairie, in which these villages were situ- 
ated, covered a space of about six miles. The 
villages were small, and built in the shape of 
a triangle, on a hillock sloping down to a 
brook which was almost dry ; further off was 
the main body of the Chickasaw villages, and 



392 % STORIES OP THE INDIANS. 

the smaller ones seemed to be a sort of van- 
guard. The Choctaws having informed Bien- 
ville that he would find water no where else, 
he ordered the army to file off close to the 
wood which enclosed the prairie, in order to 
reach another hillock that was in sight. 
There the troops halted to rest and take nou- 
rishment. It was past twelve o'clock. 

The Indian scouts whom Bienville had sent 
in every direction to look for tidings of D'Ar- 
taguette, whom he had expected to operate 
his junction with him on this spot, had come 
back and brought no information. It was 
evident, therefore, that he could no longer 
hope for the co-operation on which he had 
relied, and that he had to trust only to his 
own resources. It was impossible to wait ; 
and immediate action was insisted upon by 
the Choctaws and the French oflicers, who 
thought that the three small villages, which 
have been described, and which were the 
nearest to them, were not capable of much 
resistance. Bienville yielded to the solicita- 
tions of his allies and of his troops, and at 



bienville ? s expedition. 393 

two in the afternoon, ordered his nephew 
]S T oyan, to begin the attack, and to put him- 
self at the head of a column composed of a 
company of grenadiers, of detachments of fif- 
teen men taken from each one of the eight 
companies of the French regulars, of sixty- 
five men of the Swiss troops, and forty-five 
volunteers. 

The French had approached within carbine 
shot of the forts, and at that distance, could 
plainly distinguish Englishmen, who ap- 
peared to be very active in assisting the 
Chickasaws in preparing their defence, and 
who had hoisted up their flag on one of the 
forts. Bienville recommended that they should 
not be assailed, if they thought proper to re- 
tire, and in order to give them time, should 
they feel so disposed, he ordered to confine 
the attack to the village, named Ackia, which 
flag was the most remote from the one under 
the English flag. 

The order of the attack being given, the 
division commanded by JSToyan moved briskly 
on, and under the protection of mantelets 



394 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

carried by the company of negroes, arrived 
safely at the foot of the hill on which the vil- 
lages stood. But there, one of the negroes 
being killed, and another wounded, the rest 
flung down the mantelets, and took to their 
heels. The French pushed on, and penetrated 
into the village, with the company of grena- 
diers at their head. But being no longer 
under cover, and much exposed to the fire of 
the enemy, their losses were very heavy. The 
noble and brilliant Chevalier de Contre Cceur, 
a favorite in the army, was killed, and a num- 
ber of soldiers shared his fate, or were dis- 
abled. However, three of the principal forti- 
fied cabins were carried by the impetuosity 
of the French, With several smaller ones which 
were burned. But as a pretty considerable 
intervening space remained to be gone over, 
to assail the chief fort and the other fortified 
cabins, when it became necessary to complete 
the success obtained, Noyan, who had headed 
the column of attack, turning round, saw that 
he had with him only the ofiicers belonging 
to the head of the column, some grenadiers, 



bienyille's expedition. 395 

and a dozen of volunteers. The troops had 
been dismayed by the death of Captain De 
Lusser, of one of the sergeants of the grena- 
diers, and of some of the soldiers of this com- 
pany who had fallen, when they had attempted 
to cross the space separating the last cabin 
taken from the next to be taken ; seeking for 
shelter against the galling fire of the enemy, 
they had clustered behind the cabins of which 
they had already taken possession, and it 
was impossible for the officers who com- 
manded the tail of the column, to drive them 
away, either by threats, promises, or words 
of exhortation, from their secure position. 
Putting themselves at the head of a few of 
their best soldiers, in order to encourage the 
rest, the officers resolved to make a desperate 
attempt to storm the fortified block-house 
they had in front of them. But in an instant, 
their commander, the Chevalier de ISToyan, 
D'Hauterive, the captain of the grenadiers, 
Grondel, lieutenant of the Swiss, De Velies, 
Montbrun, and many other officers were dis- 
abled. Still keeping his ground, De Noyan 



396 STORIES OP THE INDIANS. 

sent his aid-de-camp, De Juzan, to encourage 
and bring up to him the wavering soldiers, 
who had slunk behind the cabins. But, in 
making this effort, this officer was killed, and 
his death increased the panic of the troops. 

Grondel, who had fallen near the walls of 
the enemy, had been abandoned, and a party 
of Indians was preparing to sally out to scalp 
him, when a sergeant of grenadiers, ashamed 
of the cowardice which had left an officer in 
this perilous and defenceless position, took 
with him four of his men, and rushed to the 
rescue of Grondel, without being intimidated 
by bullets as thick as hail. These five in- 
trepid men reached in safety the spot where 
Grondel lay, and they were in the act of lift- 
ing him up to carry him away, when a gene- 
ral discharge from the fort prostrated every 
one of them dead by the side of him they 
had come to save. But this noble deed was 
not lost upon the army ; the electrical stroke 
had been given, and was responded to by the 
flashing out of another bright spark of hero- 
ism. A grenadier, named Kegnisse, rather 



Bienville's expedition. 397 

inflamed than dastardized by the fate of his 
companions, dashed out of the ranks of his 
company, ran headlong to the place where 
Grondel lay weltering in his blood, from the 
five wounds he had received, took him on his 
athletic shoulders, and carried him awav in 
triumph, amid the general acclamations and 
enthusiastic bravos of those who witnessed 
the feat. To the astonishment of all, he had 
the good luck to pass unscathed through the 
fire which was poured upon him by the ene- 
my, but the inanimate body of Grondel which 
he was transporting received a sixth wound, 
So generously saved from the Indian toma- 
hawk, this officer slowly recovered, and was 
subsequently raised to a high rank in the 
French army. 

Xoyan, seeing at last that he was exposing 
himself and his brave companions in vain, 
and fainting from the effects of his wound, 
ordered a retreat from the open field, and 
taking shelter in one of the cabins, sent word 
to Bienville, that he had lost about seventy 
men, and that if prompt relief was not sent 

34 



398 STORIES OP THE INDIANS. 

the detachment would be annihilated. On 
hearing this report, Bienville sent Beauchamp 
with a reserve of eighty men, to support the 
troops engaged, and to bring off the wounded 
and dead. Beauchamp reached the spot 
where the little band of Frenchmen was con- 
centrated, and where the strife had been 
hottest. Seeing that no headway could be 
made he covered the retreat of the band, and 
brought off to the French camp most of the 
wounded and dead. The Choctaws, who had 
left the French to shift for themselves, seeing 
them retreat, wished to show their spirit, and 
made a movement, as if to storm the village. 
But a general discharge from the enemy, 
killing twenty-two of their men caused them 
to make a retrogade movement, much to the 
amusement of the French. The battle had 
lasted during three hours, and when evening 
came, the scene was as quiet as if the blast 
of war had never scared the birds from the 
trees or the cattle from the plain. 

After the severe repulse which the French 
had met, nothing remained but for them to 



Bienville's expedition. 399 

retreat. Bienville saw that he could not de- 
pend upon the Choctaws, and the fortifica- 
tions of the Chickasaws were too strong to be 
carried without cannon and mortars. On the 
22d of May, the day following that of the 
battle of Ackia, Bienville had litters made to 
transport the wounded; and at one in the 
afternoon, the army formed itself into two 
columns, which had been the order of march- 
ing in coming, it began its retrogade move- 
ment. The troops were much worn out with 
the fatigue they had undergone, and the labor 
of transporting the baggage and wounded was 
difficult. Slow marching disgusted the Choc- 
taws, and one portion of them, headed by the 
chief Bed Shoe, wished to abandon the French. 
But the more numerous part, aided by the 
eloquence of Bienville, succeeded in inducing 
them to remain. 

On the 29th 3 the French reached the place 
where they had left their boats. They found 
the river falling fast, and they hastened to 
embark the same day. After a laborious 
passage, they arrived at Tombigbee on the 



400 STORIES OF THE INDIANS. 

2d of June, and from thence returned to New 
Orleans. The expedition had been well 
planned, and vigorously executed, but unfor- 
seen circumstances defeated it. The Chicka- 
saws had proven much better warriors than 
they had been thought to be, and had de- 
fended themselves with an obstinacy as un- 
expected as it was successful. The English 
supported that tribe in their war with the 
French, and they were thus enabled to main- 
themselves against all the expeditions sent 
against them. 




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